


Denial Ain't Just a River in Egypt

by slouchbeanie75



Series: misadventures in marvel [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Genderswap, Light Angst, Not Good Enough Feels, Not Spider-Man: Homecoming Compliant, Timeline What Timeline, Tony Being Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-25 09:34:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14376012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slouchbeanie75/pseuds/slouchbeanie75
Summary: Piper Parker has a bit of a crush on Scott Lang but it's not like Tony really cares or anything. At least, not that much. FemPeter x Tony, one-sided femPeter x Lang





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This got stuck in my head and wouldn't leave. So I did the thing. Hope you enjoy :)

Love, as far as Piper Parker was concerned, was bliss.

Love was five foot ten, with dark brown hair and a winning smile. Love was always full of wisecracking jokes, love was one of the most innovative minds she had ever encountered, love was a smartass, love was a badass, love was a guy with a troubled past and a good heart.

Love was Scott Lang.

 

* * *

 

“Who’s that?” Aunt May queried, peeking over her shoulder.

Piper slammed her laptop shut, sinking into the couch, half-hoping it would swallow her and take her down into some alternate dimension where aunts didn’t gawk at whatever, or whomever, their niece was Googling. “What did you need, Aunt May?” she asked, pulling her headphones off.

Her aunt sashayed to the kitchen counter, her arms laden with grocery bags. Piper leapt to her feet, scurrying to her aunt’s aid. “Pipes, it’s fine, I got it. Why don’t you do the dishwasher and I’ll –?”

“Did it.” Piper effectively shouldered in, swiping the grocery bags from her aunt and beginning to empty them.

“Well, how about laundry?”

“Done.”

“Dinner?” May said helplessly as Piper tugged the last grocery bag from her grip.

“Spaghetti and meatballs. You want some tea?”

“Just where is all this spare time coming from?”

“You trying to kick me out?” Piper quipped, cocking a brow in her aunt’s direction as she tossed scallions into the fridge. “Am I infringing on your time with a secret boyfriend? Julio from the bakery perhaps?”

May blinked, nonplussed. “Who?”

“The guy who always gives you extra _polvorones,_ ” Piper said slowly. _The one who is obviously in love with you. Although that description probably doesn’t narrow it down._ Not that her aunt would ever wake up and realise that more than half the neighbourhood was clearly a little too sweet on her.

“Okay, whatever, I’m _serious_ ,” May insisted, her hands resting resolutely on her hips. “Last week I think I saw you all of, what, five minutes? What’s the deal, kid?”

“Nothing,” Piper said easily, placing the last tomato on the counter as her stomach rolled into a knot. “No deal whatsoever. Just nothing on the social calendar. Tea?” she asked, hoping to change the subject.

Her aunt sighed, throwing her hands up in an exaggerated “I-give-up” kind of way. Piper filled the kettle, setting her shoulders.

“Aunt May, I swear. Nothing’s up.”

Although maybe that wasn’t the truth. Maybe – just maybe – yesterday, when she’d dropped by the Tower, Mister Stark had told her to – now, how exactly had he phrased it?

“Maybe just, y’know, cool it for now,” Mister Stark had said, rather indifferently, not even looking up from his phone.

“Cool it?” Piper had repeated.

“Yeah,” he had shrugged, still not even glancing her way. “Take a break. Go on a sabbatical, or something.”

She hadn’t known what to say. Was he joking? Or had she done something wrong?

Not that she could think of. From a work perspective, she’d been kicking as much bad guy butt as she could. And as for the personal… well, just last week, she had been over at the Tower, helping Mister Stark with broadening F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s capabilities.

Sure, maybe she’d stuck around for a little too long (maybe she had been waiting and hoping, albeit pathetically, to see if Scott would make an appearance), although Mister Stark hadn’t _seemed_ to mind all that much…

If anything, he’d seemed pretty pleased at the time. Maybe not so much when she’d eaten the last of the Ben and Jerry’s – but he’d _said_ that was just a joke, and while people could say what they wanted to about Tony Stark, Piper doubted that he would freeze someone out purely because they had finished off a carton of Chunky Monkey.

Then again… there had been that other thing…

The kettle had begun to boil. Piper watched it absently, her hands idly hovering near the mugs. Maybe she should call Gwen again? Gwen was only twenty-one, not even six months older than her, but somehow she seemed so _together._ She lived in her own apartment for crying out loud! She’d be a voice of reason.

 _Nope,_ said a small firm voice in her head. _That worked out not so great last time._ Piper shuddered at the thought.

“‘ _Cool it_ ’?” Gwen’s tone had been so chilly that Piper was surprised the phone nestled between her ear and her shoulder didn’t immediately drop in temperature. “What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“He said that he’d keep me in the loop,” Piper said as brightly as she could. “But, yeah, he told me to stay away from anything that seemed bigger than – you know, it’s not important,” Piper had added quickly at the sound of Gwen’s positively scandalized swearing. She was ever so slightly afraid of where it would lead. The last thing she needed was for Gwen to barge into the old Avengers Tower and give Iron Man a piece of her mind.

And so, Piper was at home, trying not to think about it. But home was fine. It was fine. She was fine. Totally not restless. Totally fine.

“Hm. ‘Scott Lang.’ He’s kinda cute.”

Piper blanched. She turned, horrified when she saw that her aunt had opened up her old and battered laptop. _How does she always know my password, no matter how many times I change it?_ “Oh? I wouldn’t know…”

Aunt May smiled thinly. “He’d be cuter if this wasn’t a mug shot.”

 

* * *

 

Love, as far as Tony Stark was concerned, was a major inconvenience and kind of _exactly_ what he really didn’t need right now. Especially when it was sitting in the Tower common room, talking to Scott Lang and totally ignoring him.

He didn’t know just when it had happened – he wasn’t even sure of the exact moment he realized it. Okay, that wasn’t true. He’d dimly realized it during a fight out in the middle of Queens, but had pushed it aside, telling himself that there were more important things to do. The thought had reared its ugly head once or twice, or quite possibly more, but he’d chosen not to properly acknowledge it.

He just hadn’t fully accepted it until last week.

Why did she always have to be talking to _Lang?_

“Tony,” Bruce said. “You still here?”

He watched the two of them talking animatedly back and forth, their eyes bright, wide smiles on their faces. He watched him pick up a soft pretzel from the box she’d brought in earlier, watched him say something that made her laugh, and her head tipped back, her nose scrunching up ever so slightly.

“Tony?” Bruce repeated.

What _were_ they talking about? He leaned further back in his chair, wishing he could hear them through the glass.

“Tony,” Bruce said dryly, “stop staring.”

“I’m not staring,” Tony said, staring.

“You _are._ It’s kinda weird. It’s actually really weird.”

“So noted. Hey, you think we should grab a third head for this?” Tony asked, turning back to Bruce.

“No,” Bruce said wearily.

“I think we need one,” Tony said resolutely, gesturing to the numerous screens. “You know, a third head to help us work through all…” _Jesus, what are we doing again? “…_ this,” Tony finished.

“Don’t do this to yourself,” Bruce warned, taking his glasses off and wiping them on his shirt, but Tony was on a mission, already sliding out of his chair.

He marched straight up to the couch they were sitting on. He could definitely hear them now, vehemently talking, practically lost in each other. Okay, maybe not lost in each other, but they sounded like they were having a nice time. Too late, he realized that he would give anything not to hear them.

“Hey, Lang,” Tony said, standing over the pair of them, arms crossed, and Scott looked up, now struggling to swallow a mouthful of soft pretzel. “Bruce and I need a hand with –” _crap, uh –_ “some things,” Tony said smoothly. “Care to join?”

“Mm,” Scott looked surprised. “Eah, oar –” He finally swallowed. “I mean, yeah, sure! What are you guys working on?”

“Bruce can fill you in,” Tony said sleekly, the triumph bubbling gloriously in his stomach. Except now he had to hang out with Lang, whom Tony probably would have liked if Lang didn’t make him almost sick with envy.

“My man!” Lang exclaimed, unable to keep the excitement off his face as he climbed to his feet. “See ya later, Piper.”

He half expected Lang to kiss her goodbye, but the ex-con had already trotted off to find Bruce.

“Yeah, um, see you later,” Piper said, waving a little too enthusiastically. She stopped waving quite quickly, and a pained look came across her face. She caught Tony’s eye and he looked away, realizing he’d been staring again.

“Do you ever do something and just instantly question how you even function as a human being?” Piper said, her cheeks now tinged with pink.

Against his will, the corners of his lips tilted upwards, and he heard himself laugh. “Who, me?” he asked, quickly schooling his face into cool indifference. “Not really, no.”

Nevertheless, she smiled (maybe she had mistaken apathy for sarcasm) and his stomach did a somersault. Ugh.

She offered the box to him. “Cheesy pretzel?”

He took one. He was jealous, not stupid.

“Can I help with anything?”

“No, we’ve got it covered,” Tony said bluntly, trying to ignore the sudden pang of guilt he felt as he watched her face fall. He almost reconsidered…

But then he thought of her working side by side with Lang, the pair of them probably cozying up in the lab together, and his jaw clenched.

Or _worse_ : what if Bruce and Lang left the pair of them alone, and Piper stayed late, like she had last time? They would be down in his workshop, or maybe in the kitchen grabbing a drink, and she’d look up at him with those big brown eyes of hers, and… He’d do something stupid. He always did something stupid.

“Mister Stark?” Piper was looking at him right now, a little concerned. “You okay?”

He swallowed, trying to quell the fantasies that his very overactive imagination seemed to have no trouble conjuring.

Piper seemed to take that for a yes. “If you’re not too busy, I actually wanted to ask you about –”

“Well, I can’t really talk right now, I have to get back to… the thing we’re working on…” Tony trailed off. “Very time consuming, super important.”

“Right,” Piper said earnestly.

“And you’re probably tired,” Tony added pointedly, “so, y’know, if you need anything, just call…”

_Me?_

“Happy,” he said firmly, “call Happy.”

“Oh. Okay,” Piper said after a moment, not sounding altogether convinced. She slid off the couch, grabbed her backpack and slung it over her shoulders. “Well, let me know if you need anything.”

_Don’t hold your breath._

She handed him the box of soft pretzels. “I’ll leave these with you. Bruce might want some.”

He tried not to watch as she tugged her hair out from under the straps and swept it over one shoulder, displaying her neck and a part of her right clavicle that was just visible over the collar of her t-shirt. There was a small smattering of freckles there, and he wanted to trace them with his fingertips. And maybe his tongue.

Love was the worst.

 

* * *

 

So Scott liked mozzarella stuffed pretzels, Piper mused as she dodged a bullet and whipped the gun out of an oncoming carjacker’s hand. She would definitely bring more pretzels next time she went back to Stark Tower.

She wasn’t kidding herself, though. Scott Lang was not a free agent, romantically speaking; and even if he was, Piper doubted she’d really ever try anything.

Maybe that was part of the allure, knowing that there was no way she could actually have him. It was safe; no one could get hurt.

But something else nagged at her brain as she rolled underneath the now unarmed carjacker, knocking his legs out from under him. Something else – she thought as the carjacker promptly rolled down to a lower level of the parking lot, swearing quite loudly – that wasn’t as nice as, say, imagining what Scott would look like without his shirt.

It was starting to seem like Mr. Stark no longer thought she had what it took to be an Avenger.

Piper pondered on this as she launched herself into the air and webbed Angry Carjacker Number Two’s hand to a concrete pillar. Just _when_ had Mr. Stark decided such a thing? Wasn’t she doing a good job? Surely she’d proved more than once that she could hold her own –

Angry Carjacker Número Tres swore as she scrambled along the ceiling – the unlucky guy had only been carrying a knife, and he obviously wasn’t very used to using it. He threw it – it clattered hilt first against the concrete ceiling, five feet from where Piper was, and fell to the ground.

“That’s kinda embarrassing,” Piper remarked, dropping to the ground in front of the crook. “You’re so lucky none of your friends saw that.” She glanced at the still conscious man stuck to the wall. “Oh, well. _He_ did. Awkward.”

Number Three swung a punch at her, but his heart wasn’t in it. She grabbed his arm and flung him to the ground, securing him there with more webbing.

Piper surveyed her handiwork, now aware of the sirens in the distance.

“Okay, I gotta run now, but I’d just like to take this moment to remind you all that you just got your butts kicked by a girl,” she said hurriedly, grabbing her camera. “Don’t steal cars –” The sirens were getting louder – “don’t carry knives and guns –” She could see the red and blue lights through the parking lot levels – “and always eat your vegetables okay gotta go!”  

As she was swinging through the city, she couldn’t help but puzzle over just what she’d done to make Mr. Stark think she might not be cut out for the Avengers. For a moment, an awful, stomach churning moment, a nasty little voice in the back of her head suggested that she obviously _wasn’t_ , and that Mr. Stark was right…

But then the exhilaration of clambering over rooftops caught up with her, and she steeled herself. _Well,_ she thought determinedly, _I guess I’ll just have to show him that I’ve got what it takes._

 

* * *

 

Later, curled up in her bed, Piper’s mind slipped off into imagining just how Scott would react after she’d finally proved herself worthy of being an Avenger.

 _Wow,_ Scott would say, _you took down forty guys with your hands tied behind your back?_ And _saved the universe from imminent destruction? Wow, Piper, that’s… that’s amazing!_

 _I do what I can,_ she would say, and when she’d take off her mask, her hair _wouldn’t_ be all plastered to her head, and she wouldn’t be all sweaty, and she wouldn’t have to worry about blushing because cool people didn’t blush.

 _Well, I can’t believe that_ some _people thought you weren’t cut out for this,_ Scott would murmur, cupping her face with his hands. He would be close, too close, his lips hovering just an inch away from hers. _I always thought you could do it._

Piper grinned into her pillow.

 

* * *

 

He was getting a headache.

He was meant to be reading over a contract that Pepper had sent him, one that was meant to determine whether or not Stark Industries would do business with Altman Enterprises, but right now he was finding it hard to focus. More than once, he had found himself just sitting on the couch with his eyes closed rather than actually doing any reading.

Tony massaged his temples, letting his eyes slide traitorously shut. The rain was a constant drum against the penthouse windows, soothing, hypnotizing. He needed coffee. Coffee would make him wake up. Coffee would take away the headache. Coffee good. Contract bad.

He was alone in the Tower – Lang had left to go see his daughter hours ago, and Bruce, stating that he’d needed a walk, had gone hunting for good takeaway. All of the others were either upstate in the new facility, or at their homes… probably with their families… Tony frowned, his eyes still shut…

“Sir?” F.R.I.D.A.Y. queried. “Perhaps now would be a good time to let you know that Miss Parker has broken through the restricted access you’ve enabled on the penthouse floor and she’s on her way up.”

His eyes snapped open. “That’s a joke, right?”

“Unfortunately not.”

“Override it.”

“She says it’s an emergency.”

His stomach very promptly twisted itself into a knot as he bolted to his feet. _Emergency?_ He knew it. He fucking _knew_ that something would happen to her – why couldn’t he keep anyone he cared about from getting hurt –?

He’d barely turned his gaze to the elevator when the doors opened. Piper stood there, soaked to the bone and shivering quite visibly.

Tony didn’t bother to argue; all that mattered was that something was wrong with Piper, and he had to fix it. “What’s wrong?” he demanded, as she wandered in, looking surprised at his demeanor. He could hear her teeth chattering. Torn between getting her a heap of blankets or just wrapping her in his arms to absorb his body heat, Tony settled for simply standing there in frustration.

Piper looked bemused. Water was running down her face, dripping off the ends of her hair. “Huh?”

“You…” Tony cocked his head, just as confused. “The emergency – are you hurt?”

Piper shook her head.

“Are you dying?” Tony demanded. “Are you in trouble? Do you maybe want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Nothing,” Piper blurted, staring at him in shock. “Nothing’s wrong.” She shrugged her backpack from her shoulders, unzipping it and pulling out a miraculously dry tub of Ben and Jerry’s. “I owe you one – by the way,” she added, wrapping her arms around herself, “I think F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s malfunctioning, she wouldn’t let me in downstairs. Yeah,” she nodded, misinterpreting Tony’s look of disbelief, “she kept telling me that, like, you said I wasn’t allowed to come up or something?” She cleared her throat, her eyes flickering over the apartment as she whistled. “Nice place. Where’s your bathroom? I’m soaked,” she said unnecessarily, striding past him in search of a towel, setting the ice cream down on the kitchen counter.

Tony felt his teeth grit together. “So, you’re fine?” he croaked.

“Sure, why wouldn’t I be?” Piper called and he groaned, putting his head in his hands.

“I think you just took ten years off my life.”

“Yikes. Sorry.”

What the hell was going on? What was Piper _doing_ here? The anxiety that was rolling around in the pit of his stomach had died down but not by much. This was exactly what he couldn’t be doing – he couldn’t be _alone_ with her –

“Have you ever heard of calling ahead?” he asked coolly.

“I did call,” she replied. “Happy.”

Tony rolled his eyes, seething. “Okay, I get it. You’ve made your point.”

Piper strolled back into his living room, and his mouth went dry. She was no longer shivering, rubbing at her hair with a fluffy white towel, and the only thing she appeared to be wearing was one of his AC/DC t-shirts. It wasn’t really hanging very low.

“That was quick,” was all he could say.

“Are we okay?” Piper asked concernedly, draping the towel over a chair. “You kinda seem like you’re mad at me.”

He really had to stop looking at her. It was a bad idea – looking at her only made him want to do stupid things. _Incredibly_ stupid things. Jesus, she was standing less than five feet away from him, wearing what he had now decided was his favorite t-shirt, and giving him Bambi eyes – he was only human, for crying out loud –

He shut his eyes. His headache was starting to develop into something evil and he pressed his palms into the side of his head, wondering if his head would explode if he tried hard enough.

“You got a headache, Mister Stark?” Piper said, sounding much closer.

“Please stop calling me that,” Tony muttered, squeezing his eyes all the more tightly shut. Maybe if he tried hard enough, he’d wake up. Then he wouldn’t have to endure the absolute torture that was Piper Parker.

He felt small soft hands close over his, pull them away from his temples. He immediately felt warmth rush through his arms and wished she’d let go. “What do you want me to call you?” he heard her ask softly.

Even though he knew it was a bad idea, he opened his eyes. His heart skipped a beat; Piper was right in front of him, her dark eyes focused on him and only him. They were so close that he could count the freckles on her nose.

Her fingers lightly traced a path over his wrists and up his arms, over his shoulders… until they came to rest in his hair again. She gently rubbed the tension away and he felt himself unraveling as he watched her tongue dart out to wet her lips.

“Well, ‘Tony’ tends to do the trick,” he said, or at least he wanted to say that, but his voice had disappeared. One of Piper’s hands travelled to the back of his neck, gently tugging him towards her, and he was only too happy to comply…

The elevator _ding!_ ed and Tony’s eyes jerked open; Bruce walked in, holding two white plastic bags crammed full of takeaway.

“Okay, so I know you wanted Chinese, but I found this great little Thai place on –” Bruce broke off. Tony was staring at him a little too innocently. That and he had just chucked a cushion across his lap for no apparent reason.

“Huh…” Bruce said slowly. “Sorry.”

“About what?” Tony said nonchalantly. “Nothing’s happening.”

“Okay,” Bruce said amiably. “Well. When you’ve finished with nothing,” he held up the takeaway bags, “we have Crying Tiger.”


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn’t every day that she took down eight guys handling alien weaponry.

Well, she only suspected that it was alien. Guns weren’t exactly her specialty, but she had a feeling that guns weren’t meant to glow and hum with violet light.

Thank God none of them actually seemed to know how to use it – which led Piper to suspect that they’d either stolen it _or_ bought it off someone else.

Piper actually felt quite proud of herself as she hastily scrawled a note for the NYPD.

_Please handle with care! They have feelings too._

_Best,_

_Your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Woman_

That left Piper with eight goons stuck to the walls of an old school sandwich shop and a bag of probably stolen, seriously dangerous goods. Ten blocks away, perched on top of a high-quality sneaker store that always gave her serious shoe envy, Piper considered what to do with them.

She could take them home – but then, if Aunt May happened to be cleaning her room and accidentally found them, she would _freak._ It was easier to hide a superhero costume (usually by wearing it under her casual clothes) than it would be to hide a pretty sizeable bag of scary, distinctly un-safe looking weapons.

Which was a shame, because, in all honestly, she’d like to check them out.

She dialed Happy Hogan’s phone number, thinking hard about what to say that wouldn’t make her sound like a little kid.

“Hello?” Happy did not sound happy.

“Hi – I mean, hello,” Piper cleared her throat. “It is Piper Parker speaking –”

“Yeah, I saw the phone ID. What’s up?”

“Right,” Piper said, trying to sound unfazed. “Well, I’ve just been rounding up some real –” What was a distinctly grown-up word? “Some real rapscallions and –”

“Some _what?_ ”

 _Jesus, kill me now._ “They were trying to rob What A Pickle,” Piper said bluntly, “uh, eight guys, and they were holding some seriously decked out –”

“Okay, so you stopped a robbery,” Happy said, sounding bored, “that’s great, kid, but I –”

 _Kid?_ Piper bit her lip.

Somebody else seemed to speaking in the background.

“It’s Parker,” Happy responded, and Piper pulled the phone away from her ear to actually give it a look.

“Happy,” she said firmly. “This is important –”

“Just a bank robbery,” Happy was relaying to somebody who was obviously more important than she was. “Eight. Something about – what was it again, kid?”

“Weapons of mass destruction,” Piper said dully.

“She’s _fine_ , Tony –” Happy said, sounding like he was struggling and Piper’s stomach jerked, her pulse quickened, “you don’t have to –”

And suddenly Tony Stark was on the phone.

“Are you okay?” Mr. Stark demanded.

“Yeah,” Piper said, taken aback.

“Then just _what_ do you think you mean by ‘weapons of mass destruction’?”

“It was a – look, they were handling – _something_ of a seriously high caliber –”

“And what, you saw these guys toting around weapons of a _seriously high caliber_ and thought, hey, how about I, a person with little to no weaponry, take them on by myself?”

Piper frowned. This was not the way she’d expected Mr. Stark to handle this. She thought – or rather hoped – that he’d be pleasantly surprised. “Well, I’m fine, they’re all tied up, the police are on their way – and I have the stuff they were using, or trying to use –”

“Where are you?” Mr. Stark interrupted.

Piper told him her location.

“Stay there, I’m sending Mark Forty-Seven,” Mr. Stark said stiffly.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Piper protested, though she was very touched.

“To pick up your stolen goods,” he admonished, and Piper felt the warm feeling in her stomach swiftly evaporate.

“Okay,” she said uncertainly, trying to be as cool and collected as she could, because it would be childish to throw a tantrum, “well, I’ll just be here, I guess, so –”

“Yep, bye.” Mr. Stark hung up.  

“You’re welcome,” Piper said lamely, letting her head hang. _Good job, Parker,_ she thought flatly.

 

* * *

 

Someone knocked on her bedroom door.

Piper hastily erased her browsing history before snapping her laptop shut. “Just a second, Aunt May –”

The door opened a crack and Gwen poked her head in. “Surprise! Your aunt said you were sad so I’m here.”

“Oh my God, Aunt _May –_ ”

“Ta-da, hot cocoa!” Aunt May said vibrantly, sashaying into Piper’s bedroom with Gwen, holding two mugs that were liberally topped with whipped cream, marshmallows and what looked like crumbled graham crackers.

Piper squirmed as her aunt set the mugs down on her bedside table (right on top of the notebook she regularly scrawled ideas for web fluid formula into), unsure of whether to feel mortified or gratified. “Aunt May…”

“I know, I know,” May said, holding her hands up. “I’m leaving. You and Gwen can talk about whatever it is that’s going on – I’m probably not cool enough to get it,” she added knowingly to Gwen, who smiled easily. Gwen was much better at hiding the whole Spider-Woman wrinkle than Piper was.

When Aunt May closed the door, Gwen stopped smiling, spinning towards Piper with a worried look straining her features. “Is everything okay?” she asked, slipping onto the bed. “Is it work?”

Piper snorted. “The _Bugle_ does _not_ hassle me – I mean, it hassles me but they don’t know that that’s _me_ –”

“No, your other work,” Gwen said and Piper was almost a little disgruntled to see the concern in her friend’s face. _Great. Another person who thinks I can’t hero right now._

“I saw the news – and then your aunt was saying you seemed kinda out of it. I just wanted to check if you’re okay.”

Piper smiled absently. At least Gwen actually cared about her wellbeing. Unlike some people. “I’m fine. Pretty much got off scot-free.” She picked up a mug from her bedside table, sidled it off to Gwen. “And I got cocoa. I don’t know how this could get better.”

Gwen shot her an _are you sure about that_ look before opening her handbag. Her nice, adult-looking handbag. Piper glanced at her own backpack, lying crumpled on the floor.

“Boom.” Gwen tossed a white paper bag into Piper’s lap. “Cheesy pretzels. Bow in the presence of greatness.”

Piper gave a loud fake gasp. “There is seriously no one in this universe that I love more than you.”

Gwen smiled goofily. “Not even Scott Lang?”

Piper took a bite of pretzel, and her stomach flipped. _A hungry flip? Because of Scott?_ No. No, it was… they had been eating these that night she’d stayed late. And…

“Hey, um, can I ask you about something?”

“Is it about a certain member of the Avengers whose ‘nice smile’ you talked about for nearly twenty minutes?”

“I meant, like,” Piper shrugged nonchalantly, “from an orthodontic point of view.”

“Oh, _purely_ from an orthodontic point of view,” Gwen agreed sarcastically.

“No, it’s… it’s about Mister Stark.”

“He still telling you to _cool it?_ ” Gwen frowned.

“No – I mean, yeah, but – so the other week, I stayed back at the Tower, and it was just me and him, and um…”

Gwen stopped chewing. Her eyebrows rose pointedly. “Oh.” She swallowed.

Piper saw where her friend’s mind had travelled to, and she pulled a face. “Jesus. _Not_ like that.”

Gwen’s cheeks went a little pink. “I wasn’t –”

“It was totally harmless. I just… we were just working, yeah? I mean, it wasn’t weird… I mean, I think it wasn’t. That’s why I’m asking –”

“Piper –”

“I ended up on his lap.”

“You…” Gwen cocked her head, her eyes narrowed as though she wasn’t entirely sure what Piper was saying. “You ended up –”

“It was an accident,” Piper said firmly.

“You… _accidentally_ ended up on his lap –”

“Yeah _._ ” Piper shrugged, desperately trying for nonchalant.

Gwen stared at her. “ _How?_ ”

Piper could practically feel the heat emanating from her face. “I was looking at a screen – I – I didn’t realize he’d occupied the chair until I sat in it –”

Gwen covered her mouth with her hand; not because she was shocked, Piper saw, but because she was trying to hide her smile.

“It’s not funny.”

Gwen nodded as if in agreement, but her shoulders were shaking traitorously with silent laughter.

Piper tried to frown, and ended up smiling begrudgingly. Gwen cleared her throat, wiped her eyes and took a sip of her cocoa. “I’m sorry,” she said jerkily, her cheeks quivering as though she was struggling to keep a straight face. “You accidentally sat on Tony Stark. Please continue.”

“It’s really not even that big of a deal.”

“So why’d you bring it up?”

 _Because_ , Piper wanted to say. Because for a second, one stupidly embarrassing second before she had jumped to her feet and babbled through an apology, she’d felt his hands ghost over her hips, felt his breath on her ear as he’d said, “ _Whoa_ , occupied.” Because even though he’d laughed it off, despite how weirdly mortified she was, he’d been… quieter. Because he’d been a little distant, a little callous ever since. So it had to be something she had done – but _how –?_

“I don’t know,” Piper shrugged. “I just… Mister Stark –”

“Why don’t you ever call him Tony?” Gwen asked, scrunching her nose up.

 _Because I like boundaries._ “He never asked me to,” Piper said vaguely. Which was true.

Gwen opened her mouth, about to say something else that Piper was suddenly sure she didn’t want to hear, when Aunt May knocked on the door. “Do you guys want some ice-cream? Mister Giordano accidentally gave me a tub of Häagen-Dazs along with the groceries.”

“Again,” Piper said brightly to Gwen, who grinned. _Aunt May,_ Piper thought fondly. _So clueless._

 

* * *

 

Tony finally decided he needed something more to distract himself. It wasn’t unheard of for the Avengers to meet up purely to have a good time, right?

He invited as many people as he could fit in the penthouse suite of Stark Tower (with the exception of one particular person), and to be perfectly honest, it was pretty sweet. Clint had even brought his kids along, and it wasn’t bugging him. Everything seemed to be going pretty well, he thought to himself as he poured himself his first drink of the evening (over an hour in and he didn’t even _need_ one), when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of her, tawny hair tucked over one pale, freckle-spattered shoulder.

His stomach dropped. _Whaaat?_

What in the hell was Piper Parker doing here?

She was chatting with Rogers, and Tony suddenly wished he’d invited that agent that Steve vaguely admitted to thinking was pretty, Shannon, no, Sharon, something like that – oh thank _God,_ Lang had said he was busy –

“So,” Bruce said, who was standing behind the bar, having self-appointed himself as barman (probably because no one in their right mind would tell the Hulk that no, they _could_ have another drink). “Piper, huh?”

Tony kept his face expressionless. “Hm? I’m sorry, did you say something?”

Bruce looked at him, smiling ever so slightly. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“You mean the fact that she’s gatecrashing?” Tony asked, cocking a brow. “Yeah, no, I was just about to ask about –”

“She’s not gatecrashing,” Bruce said easily.

“Well, _I_ didn’t invite her –”

“I know,” Bruce said amiably, pouring Tony another drink. “I did.”

“You?” Tony blanched. Oh God. Not Bruce too. “Why did _you_ –?”

“Because you didn’t,” Bruce said evenly, fixing Tony with such a stare that he looked away… back to Piper, who was still talking to Steve… heroic, seven foot tall, all around good-guy Steve…

“I think she’s been feeling kinda left out,” Bruce said quietly, sliding the vodka tonic in Tony’s direction. “She never really knows what’s happening, mission-wise… or hang-out wise…”

“You don’t say,” Tony said idly, silently fuming as he watched Steve laugh and put his hand on Piper’s shoulder. The man was literally a human puppy dog! What woman could resist it?

“Are you just gonna stand there staring at her, or are we gonna talk about this?” Bruce queried and Tony turned back to him, ignoring the urge to push Steve out of a window, _he’d survive it anyway –_

“What’s there to talk about?” he said casually, and for a second he almost believed that there _was_ nothing to say.

Except Bruce had that no nonsense look on his face.

Except he could hear Piper laughing and it made his pulse quicken.  

Except.

“She shouldn’t be here,” Tony muttered.

“You’re right. She’s a total buzz kill. Look at how much pain she’s inflicting on everyone around her.” Bruce pointed at Piper, who was now talking animatedly to Sam as well as Steve. _No, no, no._

“I mean – she’s better than this,” Tony said, looking firmly at his glass. “She’s smart – could be whirling through M.I.T. right now if she wanted.”

Bruce didn’t say anything: he simply waited. Tony rolled his eyes, deciding to just barrel through; _anything_ to wipe that knowing smile off Banner’s face.

“What do you want me to say?” he snapped, draining his glass.

“How long have you had feelings for her?”

Tony choked. “Have _feelings_ for –? I don’t – that’s not what – I need another drink –”

He made a half-hearted swipe for the vodka bottle, but Bruce nimbly pulled it back out of his reach.

“Well,” Bruce said, his eyebrows sitting high on his forehead. “You really like her.”

_Jesus, dude, a little louder._

“Well, what’s stopping you from doing something about it?”

Tony stared at him. “Uh, hi, have we met?” He gestured to himself.

“Yeah, you’re Tony Stark: genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist,” Bruce said dryly. “Pretty sure that speaks for itself.”

He could have just left it there. He could have said, _Sure, okay,_ and then Bruce would’ve left him alone and he could go back to quietly seething.

But…

“She’s so… I’m…” _I’ve been spat out of a wormhole, I’ve had old friends turn on me at the drop of a hat, and I’m constantly terrified everyone I know is going to end up dead. So yeah, I’m kinda fucked up to the power of ten, and she_ probably _doesn’t need that._

But it wasn’t just that… How on earth could he casually explain that he felt like a dirty old man?

_Start small._

“Have you heard the way she talks to me?” Tony said, a little desperately. “It’s – it’s like I’m her friend’s dad or something –”

“What’re you talking about?” Bruce grinned, pulling the vodka out of Tony’s reach again.

“She calls me _Mister Stark,_ ” Tony pulled a face. “You don’t call the guy you wanna bang Mister Stark _,_ you call that guy’s _father_ Mister Stark.”

“Did you just use bang in a non-ironic manner?”

“Could you maybe _not_ kick me when I’m down?”

“Well, how do _you_ talk to her?” Bruce said slyly.

Tony frowned.

“Let’s think,” Bruce said. “Lately, you talk to her like a kid who’s done something wrong. You completely leave her out of missions –”

“I don’t want her to get hurt,” Tony said dully. The thought of something happening to her… his chest grew tight, lungs constricted.

“Or you ignore her,” Bruce finished. “You’re kind of being a dick.”

“Is this meant to be helpful?” Tony said irritably.

“Tony,” Bruce said gently, “it sounds like you’ve made the decision to screw yourself over without really asking Piper.”

“Quick question,” Tony said, “just when did you appoint yourself as my therapist?”

“Like three years ago. You bring it on yourself,” Bruce said. “Look – how about instead of glaring at her or sulking or moping, you just – be nice to her? Might make some headway.”

Tony smiled mirthlessly. “Have you not noticed, or have you just forgotten that she’s got the world’s biggest crush on Scott Lang?”

“Well, now you know that she’s not concerned about the age difference,” Bruce said amiably and Tony blinked. He hadn’t thought about it that way. His stomach jumped optimistically but he dismissed it, refusing to get his hopes up.

“But she’s –”

“Walking this way,” Bruce said in a low voice.

“Five hundred bucks she calls me Mister Stark,” Tony said, rolling his eyes.

 

* * *

 

 _Talk to him._ That’s what Gwen had said. _If it’s really bothering you, just talk to him about it._

 _Five hundred bucks he doesn’t even look at me,_ she thought sourly. _Or calls me kid._ Although her t-shirt did have a Vitruvian pizza on it (but at least it was clean. She’d spilled marinara sauce all over the blouse she’d had on earlier today. Oh God, she _was_ a kid). At least Bruce was there.

“Bruce,” Piper said brightly, making her way up to the bar. “Thanks so much for the invite – oh, hey Mister Stark,” she added, seeing the man himself turn around. Rather than say hello, Mr. Stark gave Bruce a meaningful look.

 _Oh, God, it’s the shirt._ She knew it. They would call her _kid_ any second now –

“Hey, not a problem,” Bruce said, easily smoothing over the moment. “Tony and I were just talking about those weapons you sent us. Pretty good job, taking out eight guys by yourself. Wasn’t it, Tony?” he added pointedly.

“Subtle,” Mr. Stark muttered.

“It’s nothing,” Piper said, mortified. “You guys could do it any day of the week –”

“Well, nowadays, Tony’s got a lot of toys that he prefers to use instead of himself,” Bruce said lightly, with another pointed look at Mr. Stark, “which is why he should probably thank –”

“Thank you,” Mr. Stark said, finally looking at her.  

Piper blinked, swallowing. Her palms felt sweaty. “Um. That’s okay.”

“It’s just that Tony gets worried sometime,” Mr. Stark added, with a withering look at Bruce. “Unlike some people, Tony has lots of titanium alloy to protect himself.”

Piper bit her lip, frowning. She saw Mr. Stark cast a furtive glance in her direction before quickly busying himself with pouring another drink.

“Oh, like a normal person,” Bruce said, still sounding so easygoing. Piper was just wondering whether she could excuse herself from whatever the flippin’ heck was going on when Bruce asked, “How’s your Aunt May, Piper?”

“She’s goo –”  

“Yeah, how _does_ your Aunt May feel about this?” Mr. Stark asked, cocking a brow at her.

“Well – obviously – she doesn’t know,” Piper said, still confused. She looked to Bruce, wondering what she’d done wrong.

“Right,” Mr. Stark said. “I mean, she would probably think it would be really dangerous, you running around, fighting crime. She’d probably be worried that you were gonna hurt yourself.”

Bruce cleared his throat.

“I’m just saying,” Mr. Stark said, shrugging defensively.

Piper’s stomach sank. Here it was, proof _again_ that Tony Stark didn’t think she had what it took!

She shouldn’t have come to this party. She should be out on the streets, searching for people to save!

She quickly spouted something about having to help Gwen with a project for Dr. Connors and a hasty goodbye before turning to leave, so deep in thought that she didn’t even hear Bruce say, “Jesus, Tony, do you have a _non_ -self destruct mode?”

 

* * *

 

Exhausted, Piper crawled into bed at three in the morning. She’d spent seven hours just doing the regular ol’ day in, day out crime fighting – stopping car thieves, guys trying to jack 7-Eleven’s, even a guy who stole an old lady’s handbag – like, who even did that anymore?

And then – out of the goddamn _blue_ – she ran into three more guys brandishing the same kind of weaponry she’d sent off to Mr. Stark! They had managed to get away from her (unfortunately, these guys seemed to know how to work it), but she’d succeeded in grabbing one of their weird alien weapons. She had to make sure to show Gwen later.

And after all that, she’d sent photos off to _the Daily Bugle._

Even as she was lying in bed, so tired she could barely keep her eyes open, thinking about Mr. Stark made her want to hide her face under her pillow. He’d looked so disappointed with her earlier… he’d barely been able to look her in the eyes… which was a shame, Piper thought sleepily, because, in all seriousness, Mr. Stark had very _nice_ eyes… and incredibly long eyelashes…

For some reason, thinking about that made her stomach jump around – _nervous_ , which made absolutely no sense at all.

She chose to think about Scott instead as she drifted off to sleep.

 


	3. Chapter 3

“I had to re-shave my legs for this,” Piper said through her smile as Harry walked her through the lobby.

“You’re helping out a friend in need,” Harry said.

Piper had to admit that it was nice to see Harry again. It had been too long – what with him taking over Oscorp, and her super-secret-superhero-duties, there hadn’t been much time to chat.

Still, she nearly hadn’t come out tonight. A night off, when she had to find out where this advanced weaponry was coming from? No way, José. The only reason she was standing in what looked like a friggin _ballroom_ was because she had promised Harry months ago that she would be his date.

“People are gonna wonder what you’re doing here without a supermodel,” Piper murmured, looking around the room filled with important-looking men and intimidatingly elegant women.

“Relax – you look great. The dress is a total win.”

 _Thank God,_ Piper thought. The dress had belonged to her aunt: a black and slinky number, boasting a Bardot neckline and a slit that travelled halfway up her thigh. It had _better_ look good.

“Plus,” Harry continued. “I bet half of the people didn’t even re-shave their legs.”

“Half of the people here are _dudes_. Women like this probably don’t even grow body hair. Or if they do, it’s like… blonde.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Look, you know how much I love to talk about body hair – but maybe we should lay off the topic for a second, because –”

Harry didn’t have to finish his sentence; a balding man had approached them and begun to eagerly congratulate Harry on Oscorp’s latest brainchild, for which the gala was fundraising.

Piper wished she knew more about what was going on, but Harry had said he was too nervous to talk about it, and after he’d called her two hours ago, she’d barely had time to get ready and –

Something out of the corner of her eye made her freeze. For a moment, she tensed, sure that her spider-sense had picked some kind of danger up…

She whipped her head around so fast that she felt Harry jump.

“You okay?” he muttered while the man he was talking to raised his eyebrows at Piper.

“And who might this be?”

“Piper Parker,” Piper said, a little absently, hardly glancing at him. Mr. Stark was standing not twenty feet away. Even in the sea of people, she could clearly see he was talking to two incredibly beautiful women, who were smiling at him like he was God’s gift to earth.

Piper frowned, no longer hearing words of the balding man who was trying to make polite conversation, nor seeing the confused look Harry sent her way. One of the women, the one with the choppy bob, had draped her arms over his shoulders, leaning in to whisper something in Mr. Stark’s ear and Piper tore her eyes away, seething –

“Piper,” Harry said, bemusedly. “What’s up?”

“Sorry,” Piper smiled brightly, even though she could practically feel her blood boiling. What was _up_ with her? Was it PMS? Or maybe she was just hangry… that had to be it! She hadn’t eaten since… what, this morning?

“Where’s the food?” she asked, and the bald man raised his eyebrows. Harry cleared his throat, plastering a fairly realistic looking smile on his face as more people came to congratulate him.

“Stick with me for five minutes, please, and then we’ll find food.”

 

* * *

 

Nearly half an hour later, Piper’s cheeks hurt from the nonstop fake-smile marathon that Harry had treated her to. She wandered out from the huge ballroom and into the ever so slightly less packed gardens, massaging her face. _Food, food, food, where is the food?_

Defeated, Harry had finally been led away by an old acquaintance of his father’s. Piper had wondered whether to accompany him, but the woman had barely even turned her head in Piper’s direction.

So instead, she was desperately searching for food, trying to ignore the fact that she was angry for no reason. _They have a_ bar _out here, but no snacks?_

Why did they even _need_ a bar? This was totally the kind of event where waiters walked around with trays of champagne. Piper had already had a little, and didn’t really mind it. It wasn’t like she’d never had a drink before.

Maybe Harry hadn’t wanted her to leave him alone. She sighed, feeling lightheaded. _Okay, Parker, stop thinking about the food, start thinking about your friend._

She walked towards the bar, figuring she could at least bring him back a drink to compensate. Sure. She’d bring him a drink, they’d find food together, everything would be fine, and she could still see that girl with her choppy bob and her willowy limbs and _what? What does that have to do with anything?_ Piper thought as she sidled up to the chrome white bar, grabbing a drinks menu and perusing it absently.

 _What would Harry like, what would Harry like,_ she thought, more to distract herself than anything else. She wasn’t angry. She was not angry.

“Piper Parker,” said the person next to her and Piper nearly dropped the drinks menu in shock. She looked up to see Mr. Stark standing to her left – only something seemed different. It took Piper a second to realize that he was actually looking _at_ her, not somewhere else, and – not only that – he was smiling ever so slightly.

Her stomach squirmed, but not unpleasantly. _How does that even make_ sense? she thought, flustered.

“Mister Stark –”

“How long have we known each other for?” he interrupted, cocking a brow.

_Three months. For two and a half of those months, you actually talked to me, and were a likable, attractive human. But for the last two weeks, however, you have been grumpier than that grumpy cat. But hey. Not that anyone’s counting._

“Long enough,” Piper said vaguely.

“Long enough for you to start calling me ‘Tony’?”

Piper stared. Not only was Tony Stark, a) looking her right in the eyes, b) not irritated, but he was also, c) joking around with her? Was there something in the water?

This was weird – _but_ , Piper reflected, not a bad weird, by any means.

 _Boundaries, boundaries, boundaries,_ danced through her head, but she pushed it away.

“Gee, I don’t know,” she said, wondering if maybe she’d been hit on the head and was now hallucinating. “It sounds pretty risky. I don’t know if I can handle the pressure…”

Tony’s smile flickered into a grin. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I figured you could take the heat.”

Ignoring the fact that her stomach felt like it was on a rollercoaster, she held out her hand, immediately regretting it because oh no what if her palms felt sweaty –? “Hi, Tony.”

“Hi, Piper,” Tony replied evenly, taking her hand in his larger one, and it was warm, and she could feel the calluses on his palm.

He let go, turning back to the bar. “What do you want?”

Piper frowned, drawing her attention away from his hands. He had nice hands. “You don’t have to buy me a –”

“Sea breeze? You seem like a sea breeze kind of gal.”

“Do they have snacks?” Piper asked keenly, squeezing up to the counter between Tony and another suit.

“No, this place has waiters that come around with the little trays of – Piper, what are you do –?”

“Do you have snacks?” Piper demanded of the barman, trying to climb over the counter in her quest for food. She felt an arm wrap firmly around her waist and pull her back to the ground, against a very warm body; suddenly, her skin felt too hot, and she felt all tingly, and –

“Honey, climbing over the bar is a good way to get kicked out,” Tony said lightly, steering her away and he really wasn’t moving his arm from around her waist and –

_I need snacks to stop feeling angry – and light headed – and my stomach needs to stop flipping – and – and boy oh boy, he is warm –_

“They can’t kick me out – I have an Avenger to back me up,” Piper found herself saying, looking defiantly up at Tony, who grinned and good God what was up with her stomach and the butterflies?

_Am I drunk? Sure, yeah, that must be it!_

“So maybe I shouldn’t buy you a drink.”

“Probably not,” Piper said, shaking her head. “I swear, I’ve only had one drink… but I don’t usually drink champagne…”

This was really not the impression she needed to be making if she wanted to convince Tony Stark that she was a hands-on, in control superhero. This probably confirmed all his doubts about her. But instead of lecturing her, he was steering her through the crowds, supporting her by keeping his arm around her… although, she could walk fine… surely he could see that… then again, who was she to complain?

“Hey, no judgement,” Tony said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “You want a list of all the dumb things I’ve done with one drink in my body?”

“Speaking of which, what happened to those girls?” Piper asked lightly as Tony sat her down on an elegant wire bench by the gardens.

He crouched down in front of her, looking up at her with an appreciative kind of shock. “Miss Parker, I did _not_ expect that kind of sass from you. You sure you only had one drink?”

“I didn’t even finish it,” Piper said, with a note of mock pride in her voice.

“Bravo. What girls?” Tony asked, cocking an eyebrow. He had very dark eyebrows… and eyes… and lashes…

“The girls, the ones you were with earlier,” Piper said. Unless there had been more than just the two he’d been with earlier. She hoped not.

“You’re not spying on me, are you, Piper?” Tony asked, and his voice dropped conspiratorially.

“I’m not spying,” Piper said firmly. “Just observing. Anyway, I know, they were probably really cool girls, I shouldn’t be hating on them. You smell nice,” she declared.

Tony’s lips quirked back into a positively radiant smile as he let out a quick bark of laughter.

“Oh God, this is so embarrassing,” Piper blanched.

“It is,” Tony agreed and she laughed, covering her face with her hands. “It’s also the best thing ever. But y’know, we’ll laugh about it later, so –”

“No, we won’t,” Piper said, her voice muffled from behind her hands. “Maybe a couple of weeks ago, sure, but now? You don’t even _smile_ at me anymore.” This was awful. What was she doing? Why was she saying every little thing that popped into her head?

“Yeah, I’ve been kinda backwards lately,” Tony said, gently tugging her hands away from her face, “which is why I was going to buy you a drink as an apology, or at least as the start of an apology –”

“Whoops. Any other plans of attack?”

“Uh, _yeah_. I was also gonna compliment you a lot.”

Piper nodded approvingly. “Always good.”

“But not, like, too much. Like, not to the point where you’re uncomfortable.”

“Right. So unlike how I made you uncomfortable when I accidentally sat on you?”

Tony looked startled – perhaps he hadn’t expected her to ever bring it up again – before his face cracked into a grin. Piper covered her face again. “I’m breaking the ice. We’ve acknowledged it. Now we never have to speak of it again –”

“Was it an accident though?” Tony asked in an exaggeratedly serious manner, and she giggled. “It seemed kinda staged to me. You just didn’t hear me come in –?”

“Oh, my God, I was _in the_ _zone_ –”

“– walk all the way to the desk, and take the chair? Come on. I’m asking for a friend.”

“Why’d you have to sit in my chair?”

“No, that was my chair. I distinctly remember it being my chair.”

“Remember how you said you were going to compliment me?” Piper asked, resting her chin in her palm. She was trying to hide how delighted she felt. She had missed this.

“I got distracted. I guess I was just _in the zone_ –”

“ _Tony_ ,” Piper said insistently.

“Hm? Oh –” He snapped his fingers. “Right. I was gonna tell you how amazing you look in that dress.”

Something, she noticed, was a little different. She could see it in the pause that hung between them, the stiffness in his shoulders, the way his brow furrowed; he was not as easygoing as he was playing this.

She nodded slowly, but she knew she was smiling like a dope. “Okay. That would definitely help. And after that?”

“What’s the rush? You got somewhere else to be?” Tony said, smiling back at her, only nowhere near as dopily; in fact, it looked downright adorable (but there was still something so _tense_ about him _)_. She hoped that he’d stop looking so nice sooner rather than later, because if he didn’t, she was going to do something dumb, like touch his hair, or his stubble.

Wow, she was never drinking again.

“Nope. I like it here,” Piper said easily. She thought she saw a flash of what looked like relief cross his face.

“So, Miss Parker, I’m gonna get you some bread –”

“– I _love_ bread –”

“– so you can sober up. Or whatever fancy, tiny portions of food they have here.”

“I’m fine,” Piper said, waving a hand in disdain, “I’m really fine, this is a total one-off, I swear –”

Tony caught her hand with his. “Don’t go anywhere, Piper,” he said firmly, and the intensity in his gaze made her stomach swoop.

“Piper!”

Piper jumped and her head swiveled over to see Harry walking towards her, looking relieved. “Pipes, I’ve been searching for ages, what happened to –?”

Harry froze; Piper turned back to Tony, only to find that he was no longer crouching in front of her, but standing up straight, and now a certain part of his anatomy was quite close to her eye line.

She stood up, clearing her throat. “Harry,” she said, her voice sounding a little high, “this is –”

“Tony Stark,” Harry said, practically in awe, holding his hand out. Tony shook it, the smile still lingering around his mouth but Piper saw that it was completely gone from his eyes. _Black coffee,_ she thought. _That’s how dark they are._

“It’s a pleasure,” Harry was saying. “Harry Osborn, I’m the head of –”

“I know,” Tony said nonchalantly. “Pleasure’s all mine.” His eyes flashed back to Piper, who was feeling very sober all of a sudden.

“How do you two –?” Harry began.

“I had an internship,” Piper said quickly, “at Stark Industries.”

Tony didn’t so much as nod but Harry looked stunned. “Jeez, Pipes, you kept that quiet!”

“Yeah,” Piper shrugged. “I –”

“How do you two know each other?” Tony interrupted, and Piper turned to answer him, but Tony was looking firmly at Harry.

“Piper and I have known each other for years now,” Harry said fondly, smiling at her. “We went to high school together and, uh, I think she’s the reason I even graduated.”

“That’s not true,” Piper said, frowning.

“Come on, I couldn’t have done it without you,” Harry pressed, winking at her.

Tony cleared his throat. “Look, it was great to meet you, Harry, but I actually have some, uh, important business to attend to –”

“Of course,” Harry said graciously, “of course, we won’t hold you up.”

Tony barely raised his eyes to her face. “Have a good night, Piper,” he murmured, before disappearing into the crowd, leaving her to ponder his confusing change of demeanor.    

 

* * *

 

Piper knew she was dreaming because Scott was kissing her.

She let her fingers trail through his hair, murmuring his name occasionally, but her mind was elsewhere. What the heck had happened with Tony tonight? Had he gone mental for a second? Or had he had a little too much to drink as well?

Piper’s cheeks burned with embarrassment but she managed to forget it as Scott began to kiss her neck. In her dream, they were lying on a couch in Gwen’s apartment, victorious from – well, from what, Piper wasn’t sure, though she vaguely thought it had something to do with a giant banana.

That wasn’t really important though, she thought, as Scott’s hands tugged her closer, and he moaned her name.

But what was Tony’s problem? Why had he pulled a complete one-eighty at the sight of Harry?

Scott was doing something to her neck that felt fantastic, letting his teeth graze across her skin, sucking _just_ enough that she wondered if it would leave a mark (even though it definitely couldn’t because she was dreaming); she could feel her toes curling, and she ran her fingers through his hair again, much more appreciatively, as he pulled back and –

_Tony?_

Piper gawked at him, beyond confused.

He just smiled lazily at her and the butterflies filled her stomach again, and suddenly they weren’t on the couch, they were in a bed, and Tony, dark hair rumpled, skin a gorgeous shade of toast, clad in nothing but a pair of black Calvin Klein’s, pulled her onto his lap, where she could feel the heat of him, his hands making quick work of her t-shirt and his chest was so damn _warm,_ and as he bit down on her neck she felt a throbbing in the pit of her stomach –

Piper woke up in her own bed, the sky still dark, feeling far too warm.

 _I’m never drinking again,_ she vowed.


	4. Chapter 4

“We kicked _ass_ today,” Barton said, raising his glass, “and for that, friends, I believe we deserve this pizza. And maybe some garlic bread too.”

“Ah crap, we forgot the garlic bread,” Lang muttered and Tony didn’t dare look at Piper. He didn’t think he could take seeing whatever sappy expression she’d shoot Lang. He was already surprised that she hadn’t brought the Osborn kid along.

“If we had some garlic bread,” Barton continued, in the same grand tone, “we would totally deserve it. Amen.”

“Amen,” came a chorus of voices and so they began to dig in.

It was an odd group today. Wanda and Vision were upstate at the new compound, Natasha was off doing God only knew, Thor had flown off, either to see his girlfriend or to check out his home planet, and Steve was off on a solo mission that he refused to talk about. That left himself, Bruce, Rhodey, Barton, Lang and Cap’s friend Sam – and Piper, of course, but seeing as he refused to let her get in any situation where she might hurt herself, she hadn’t really been part of today. She was only here because the others had wondered where the hell she was.

But Katniss was right; they had kicked ass today. More guys carrying those “weapons of mass-destruction” that Piper had first put him on to. Definitely Chitauri based, which bothered him enough without having to think about the wormhole. He promised himself he’d look further into it tomorrow.

But a fight was a fight. That was why they were sitting in Stark Tower, celebrating (or at least, trying to. He probably shouldn’t have had the last beer or two).

He heard his name mentioned and forced himself to smile. So far, no one had asked if anything was wrong, and he’d kept all the shitty comments and snide looks in check. He’d been downright pleasant if nothing else; even Rhodey hadn’t noticed anything was up.

Well, maybe Bruce was watching him a little curiously. But Bruce worried about everything; he was probably just being overcautious because he thought Tony still had feelings for Piper.

But no, nooo way. He was over her. He absolutely did not have any feelings left for her whatsoever.

He glanced at her and saw her eyes dart away from him. His heart leapt wildly in his chest and he looked away, utterly miserable.

Oh yeah. Didn’t feel a thing.

“Piper,” Lang said from the floor, cocking an eyebrow, “did you take the last slice of pepperoni?”

“Huh? Oh,” Piper said, looking a little dazed, not to mention impossibly cute. Tony looked at the floor. “I did, yeah.”

Lang made some wisecrack statement that earned a lot of laughs, but Tony didn’t hear it. He didn’t want to be here, now, with them.

“I’ll be right back,” he heard himself say.

“Everything okay?” Rhodey asked.

“Yeah,” Tony said easily, “I think I just – there’s this thing… I have to double check –”

“Oh, sure, I’m glad you said it in a way that made sense to everyone,” Rhodey said, taking a sip of his beer. Tony glanced at Piper again, but this time she didn’t look away; she smiled hopefully at him.

“All right, see you guys,” Tony said, turning away and walking out despite the numerous protests he heard.

 

* * *

 

This was what he needed: loud rock and roll and total solitude, just working on his suits by himself. This was great. This was totally great. How could anyone pass up this opportunity?

There was a knock on the glass, and Tony looked up from the gauntlet he was working on, stomach writhing in excitement when he saw Piper was standing behind the glass door, smiling slightly. “Can I come in?” she called.

For a second, he thought about telling her to go away. What was the point, teasing himself with the idea that something was going to happen? Then he sighed. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., open up and turn the Angus Young off.”

“Hey,” Piper said as the glass slid back and she walked into the lab. “Bruce told me you might be here.”

“Well, here I am,” Tony said shortly, setting his screwdriver down on the workbench.

“Are you okay?” Piper asked, leaning back against the door. She didn’t seem to want to get very close.

“Fine,” Tony shrugged. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?”

“No,” Piper shrugged back, though she still looked a little concerned. “No reason.” Then she frowned, biting her lip as if she was thinking deeply about something. He wanted to bite her lip too. “It was just –”

“Just what?” Tony said, feeling a little irritated now.

“You ran off the other night,” Piper prodded.

God, he could hardly stand thinking about it. He couldn’t get her laugh out of his head.

“I…?” _Change the subject, change the subject._ “Did I run?”

Her lips curled into a tiny smile. _Stop looking at her lips._ “Maybe you didn’t run. It seemed like a pretty hasty getaway, though.”

“Hm.”

Maybe, if he just ignored her and went back to working, she would leave. Maybe he should just ask F.R.I.D.A.Y. to turn the music back on. He picked up his screwdriver, was just about to ask if the A.I. if she could, kindly, fucking blare it, when Piper trotted over to his workbench and hoisted herself onto the edge.

He closed his eyes. He found it almost offensive how nervous she made him feel, like he was fourteen again. Too eager. Too excitable.

“Is this for the Mark Forty-Eight?” she asked excitedly.

“Forty-Nine,” he corrected – even though, yes, he was totally lying and yes, this was for the Forty-Eight.

Piper began to chatter on about the technology – something he would have probably been interested in if he hadn’t been struggling with the idea of simply walking around to her side of the bench and kissing her until her knees went weak. He was sure he could do it; he knew he was a good kisser. He was almost certain that he could do it. Kind of certain. _Fuuuuck._

He couldn’t do that. He was too old for her, and one hundred percent too unstable. The other night had been a test run, and sure, it might have started out okay, but once Harry Osborn had shown up –

“You’ve got something on your face,” Piper said, licking her thumb and reaching out to him.

“Something” was a small cut on his forehead. He’d been thrown across the street, crashing into a rather pricey Chinese restaurant. Really, it didn’t hurt at all, but she was brushing his hair back from his brow, looking concerned. He forced himself not to lean into her touch.

“It’s nothing,” Tony said, although he would have loved it if she’d fussed over him for at least another fifteen minutes.

She frowned. “You sure? It doesn’t hurt?”

 _Yes,_ he thought. _It hurts so bad. You should kiss it better._

Piper seemed to take his silence for a no, and seamlessly launched back into her one-sided discussion.

Maybe he could ask her to stay late again tonight. For reasons. He could think of one. He could think of a hundred. Then he thought of Harry Osborn, and he grimaced.

“– even that Chitauri stuff though, like, whoever is messing around with _that_ , you still have to give them credit –”

“What?” Tony interrupted, cocking his head.

Piper blinked at him. “Hm?”

“Run that last sentence by me again?” She couldn’t have said it.

“I…” she trailed off. She swallowed, looking at the floor. “Um. I don’t really remember –”

Tony dropped the screwdriver. “No. You said Chitauri.”

She slipped off the workbench. “I…” she shrugged, breezily. “Yeah. That’s… what Bruce said. Remodeled Chitauri weaponry.”

He scrubbed a hand across his face, frowning. “And you’re talking to Bruce about it, _why?_ ”

“I wanted to see what he thought about it.” She frowned back. “I’m allowed to ask about it, aren’t I?”

He crossed his arms. “But you sent all the munitions you found to me, right?”

“Yeah,” Piper said, nodding eagerly. She cleared her throat. “The – on that day, yeah I –”

He drew in a shaky breath before he cut across her. “I’m sorry, _on that day?_ ” _That day when I thought I made it pretty clear you shouldn’t do that again?_ “You…?”

Piper scrunched up her nose, still looking at the floor.

Tony just stared at her, his heart pounding. “I’m just gonna refresh my memory here. Did I or did I not say ‘don’t fight guys with lots of alien guns’?”

“You did not,” Piper said dryly, finally looking up. Her eyes, darker than molasses, were narrowed to slits. “That would’ve been distinctly memorable.”

“Well, I think that was clearly the underlying message of whatever it was I actually said,” Tony said heatedly.

Piper broke in. “But I –”

“So after I said this,” he continued, raising his voice over hers, “you did it again? And – you _kept_ some of this _totally safe_ intergalactic arsenal, not only putting yourself but plenty of other people, including your _aunt,_ at risk –”

“I’m not an idiot,” Piper said quietly.

He threw his hands up. “So it’s been properly contained, right? You’re not keeping it in a gym bag under your bed?”

Her cheeks flamed scarlet despite her defiant look.

 _Jesus fucking Christ!_ His heart was going too fast, and he thanked whatever God was up there that she was still alive –

“If I ask you to do something,” he said, and his voice was very low and very even because he was _not_ going to have an anxiety attack, “you need to do it. Otherwise, you’re useless to me.”

That had come out far harsher than he’d intended it.

He saw the hurt register in her face for an instant and his insides twisted guiltily. _Shit, shit, double shit –_

“That… I mean, I didn’t…” He just had to tell her. He just had to outright say it. “Piper, I have to say some –”

“Mister Stark,” she said levelly, and her face was stone, devoid of expression, “if you don’t want me to be here, all you have to do is say so.”

He hesitated. Then he went for the safest option. “I don’t want you to be here,” he rattled off.

She nodded. “Okay then. Thank you for your time. I’m sorry it –” And then she shrugged and she turned away and before he knew it, she was gone.

 

* * *

 

She had to get her bag; she’d left it in up with the rest of the goddamn party. She just had to keep herself from crying until after she’d grabbed her bag and was in the elevator. Then it was fine.

_I don’t even care what he thinks._

Her bag – she’d left it near the elevator. Maybe she could just duck in, shout her goodbyes, and then run out before they could say anything. Maybe if they really missed her, they’d hang out with her somewhere else. It wasn’t like she even fought with them, really. She wasn’t an Avenger.

The elevator doors opened and she nearly walked into Bruce.

“Whoa!” Piper exclaimed.

“Jesus!” Bruce said in surprise, laughing a little shakily. “Sorry, Piper.” Then he caught a look at her face – or maybe at how she was trying to hide it, looking down and letting her hair fall across it. “Everything okay?”

Piper ducked past him, scooping up her backpack. “Yeah, I – where’s everyone else?”

“Gone out for victory garlic bread. And booze.” Bruce crossed his arms. “I was just going down to check on Tony.”

“Oh, he’s fine,” Piper said, unable to keep a little bitterness out of her voice.

Bruce frowned. “What did he say to you?”

“He didn’t say anything,” Piper lied easily. “I just wanted to see if he was okay. He is.” She shrugged at Bruce. “Look, I’d love to stick around, but – my Aunt May, she just called, and –” He wouldn’t know her phone was still in her backpack, would he? Had it rung while she was away?

Bruce nodded amiably, standing in the elevator doors to keep them open. “Piper,” he said and hesitated, as though carefully choosing his words. “Tony can be an idiot, but mostly he’s just trying to do what he thinks is right.”

Piper smiled brightly. “Yeah, I know,” she said agreeably, although she couldn’t agree less. “It’s so fine, Bruce, I don’t know what you’re worried about. Nothing happened.” Maybe her face had gone all blotchy or her corneas had gone red – something that only seemed to happen when she was out in public, never when she was home alone crying. Fate was cruel.

Bruce nodded, smiling back. She wondered if her smile looked as fake as his. “Yeah, no problem. Here, you take this one down and I’ll –”

“Oh, we can catch it together,” Piper said hastily, not wanting to be rude.

“No, it’s fine, I forgot something – take it.”

It was _nice_ of Bruce to do that, Piper thought dully as she smiled at him, slipping into the elevator. _Chivalrous_. Both words Tony Stark clearly did not know.  

 

* * *

 

“You’re home early,” Aunt May said, surprised. “Is everything okay with Gwen?”

“Yeah, Aunt May,” Piper said as brightly as she could, trying to pretend she hadn’t been crying for most of the way home. She locked the front door, hearing it click. “Everything was fine, Gwen just had to finish something for Doctor Connors and I think it was really important so I –”

She looked up to see that May was already off the couch, clearly not fooled. She burst into fresh tears.

“Oh, sweetie,” her aunt said, wrapping her arms around Piper. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s –” Piper swiped her sweatshirt sleeve across her nose. “I – I just – I don’t know,” she said miserably, sure her aunt would just roll her eyes at her childish behaviour.

But Aunt May just nodded. “Go get changed into your pyjamas, I’ll make us tea and we can watch whatever you want. Go on, go,” Aunt May practically scooted her towards her bedroom. “We also have Häagen-Dazs – except I actually bought it this time,” Aunt May raised her voice as Piper walked into her bedroom, feeling almost numbed as she shut the door, letting her backpack fall to the floor.

This was it. She wasn’t an Avenger. She hadn’t proved herself as anything, even after trying _so hard_ and –

“ _Sex and the City_ or _Gilmore Girls?_ ” her aunt called out.

Piper rolled her eyes, kicking her backpack so that it sailed across the room and smacked into the wall. She cursed; her phone was in there.

“Everything okay?”

“Yup!”

Piper pulled her phone out: no cracks. The new Stark phone really was durable. Staring at her phone, she was gripped by a sudden urge to smash it against the floor until it _did_ break.

“Piper _?_ ” Aunt May tried.

Piper stared hard at the phone then looked to the old cloth backpack tucked innocently under her double bed. Despite the constant worry Aunt May might find it, Piper’s curiosity had won over her caution, and she’d tinkered with it a few times to figure out how it worked. The backpack was partially obscured by an old but faithful tub of Lego, an empty duffel bag and some old science fair projects.

“Piper? What are we watching?”

Who said she was out of the game? All she had to do was something amazing – something spectacular – and Tony Stark couldn’t possibly judge her. She _would_ be an Avenger. He’d see.

“ _Piper?_ ”

“Coming, Aunt May,” Piper replied loudly, quickly changing into her comfiest pyjamas and opening her bedroom door.  

 

* * *

 

When Tony woke up the next morning, his head felt like his skull had become too sizes too small for his brain _._

“Oh my God,” he groaned. “What the hell happened?”

“Nothing really,” Bruce said chirpily, sitting by the side of his bed, reading the paper. _Who the hell even reads the paper anymore?_ Tony thought irritably, trying to ignore that there was a huge photo of Spider-Woman on the front. “Let’s see,” Bruce continued. “You drank a lot, you had a fight with Piper and made her cry, pretty sure you drank even more after that, you broke a table, watched a lot of baby seal videos and then you threw up.” Bruce paused, as though thinking. “Oh, and you tried to drunk-call Piper but you called Pepper instead, which was fun.”

Tony stared at Bruce in rising horror. “Please tell me you made some of those up.”

Bruce shook his head, still staring at the paper. His eyes weren’t moving, though. He wasn’t reading it. It was all for show.

Tony groaned again, letting his head fall back against the pillow. Oh, he felt like _shit._ “When did I realize that it was _Pepper_ , not _Piper_ , that I was talking to?”

“I don’t think you did,” Bruce beamed.

“Good to know you had my back,” Tony grunted.

“Tony, please tell me when anyone has been able to stop you, _ever_ ,” Bruce said wryly. “You should call her.”

“I think the best thing to do is let Pepper cool off, because, bless her, but that woman can hold a grudge for –”

“Piper,” Bruce said, finally looking at him with a very unsympathetic look plastered on his face. “You should call Piper.”

Tony shook his head. “Oh, _that_ is definitely beyond repair,” he said offhandedly. But his throat burned like he’d downed six shots. All he could see was her face, and how sad she’d looked, and –

“Did I really make her cry?”

Bruce hesitated, suddenly looking a lot more sympathetic.

His stomach twisted and _fuck –_

“I have to go throw up,” Tony announced, rolling out of bed and heading to the bathroom.

 

* * *

 

He turned the tap, and water spilled out of the faucet. He washed his mouth out then cupped his palms together, splashing his face a few times.

_Useless. That’s what you called her._

After she’d left, he remembered feeling like part of his chest had been cleaved out. Guilt had gnawed at the pit of his stomach with its sharp little teeth, like it was doing now. He could remember that he’d thrown something – _A glass? A blowtorch? Something –_ and then Bruce had tried to talk to him but drinking had seemed like the only reasonable option. Everything from there was much fuzzier.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” he said woozily. “Order some Chinese. And fried chicken. Like really greasy fried chicken.”

His stomach lurched again and he spat bile into the sink as the A.I. agreed to do as he said. He needed grease and a hell of a lot of Gatorade.

 _Or more beer,_ said a sly voice in his head but he swiftly struck that one down.

He tried to remember if he’d seen Piper crying or not and his stomach rolled unpleasantly again. This time though, it had nothing to do with the hangover.    


	5. Chapter 5

“Tell me where,” Piper said coolly as the young man struggled, hanging upside down over the edge of an apartment building that may or may not have just so happened to be Gwen’s.

“You’re nuts!” he was yelling as Piper crawled alongside next to him, just out of reach of his swinging limbs. “Oh God oh _God_ you have to be kidding me –”

“Tell me where you got them from!” Piper demanded.

“He’ll kill me!”

“And I won’t?” Piper asked, hoping her voice sounded menacing. She really hoped she was selling this. She could never kill this guy. God, could she kill _anyone?_ No way in hell!

“Only,” she continued, “with my way, see, it’s a long way down. You should probably stop swinging around so much,” she added, raising her voice, “or the webbing might break.”

Again, there was no way in hell it would break.

But immediately the young man froze, eyes squeezed shut. “I can’t tell you who I got them from,” he said hastily. “But I can tell you where his next deal will be.”

“Oh, really?” Piper asked sarcastically. “That is – wow, that is _so_ convenient. I’m gonna drop you now.”

“No, no! I’m serious!” the man yelped. “Oh, Jesus, Mary and Joseph –”

“Where?” Piper growled. She didn’t feel particularly great about doing this, but she needed something. Honestly, after this, she was going to buy this guy a sandwich.

The guy rattled off an address, a date and a time, his eyes still squeezed shut. She nodded, satisfied, and tugged him up over the edge, onto solid, safe ground.

The dude collapsed, practically kissing the rooftop.

“Look,” Piper said, kneeling down next to him. “You’re not a bad guy, but you shouldn’t be getting mixed up with these dudes. You know the kind of stuff they’re carrying?”

“Oh God I won’t ever see them again,” the young man promised, “oh shit, I swear, never again, just please don’t hurt me –”

“No, dude, just – watch out for yourself.” She cleared her throat. “Sorry about that. Hanging you off the edge.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, shaking his head wildly. “It’s – it’s fine.”

His eyes, she noticed, were almost the exact same shade as Mr. Stark’s. Gritting her teeth together, she got to her feet, ignoring the lump in her throat as she pulled out a ten-dollar bill from her backpack. “Hey,” she said, running back to the guy who was trying to stagger to his feet. “Here, look, grab yourself a sandwich, or a donut –”

He didn’t take the money. He just ran to the rooftop door that Piper had left propped open, propelling himself out of sight as he screamed for help.

Piper sighed, hanging her head. _Time to go,_ she thought, swinging over the edge and climbing down to Gwen’s open window _._

* * *

 

“I just can’t believe him, y’know?” Piper said, frowning down at the glass of wine Gwen had poured her. They were already onto their second bottle. “I don’t even know why it bothers me so much. I – I try so hard to be what I think he wants me to be…” She rolled her eyes. “It’s so stupid. I don’t even care.”

“Okay,” Gwen said, watching her carefully from the other side of her kitchen table.

“I don’t,” Piper emphasized. She picked at her food. Gwen had made them chicken and mushroom risotto for dinner, and had pulled out a bottle of fruity white wine when Piper said she’d needed to talk.

“Yeah,” Gwen nodded affably. “Yeah, who cares what Tony Stark thinks?”

Piper stared moodily at her wine glass, putting her chin in her hand as she rested her elbow on Gwen’s kitchen table. “I don’t. Like, at all.”

“Cool,” Gwen said. “So. I’m going to go out on a limb here. Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Hit it.”

Gwen wiggled her brows. “You like him.”

“What? No! No, I’m… I like _Scott_ remember?” Piper rolled her eyes. “Duh.”

“You need more wine,” Gwen said wisely, pouring more into Piper’s glass. Piper snickered.

“It’s not like that. At all. I like Scott. He’s nice. And cute.”

“And in a relationship,” Gwen said brightly.

“So what? The heart wants what it wants,” Piper said grandly, swilling the wine around in her glass and taking a huge sip. “You know,” she said, making her tone even _grander_ by attempting a British accent, “I do think I detect a hint of oak in this _pinot_ _noir_.”

“This is, in fact, a five dollar _Riesling_ , Mary Poppins,” Gwen said, giggling. Piper wished she had a voice like Gwen’s; it was so husky. She just sounded sexy _all the time_.

“I wanna sound like you,” Piper heard herself whine. “You have the best voice.”

“No, you have the best voice,” Gwen said enthusiastically, “And you’re a superhero! Pew, pew!” She pretended to fire webs from her wrists. “I fight crime! Pew, pew!”

Piper laughed so hard she nearly fell off her stool.  

“So, tell me why you like Tony Stark,” Gwen said sweetly, batting her eyelids.

“No reason because I don’t,” Piper said firmly, ignoring the way her stomach flipped as she remembered the feeling of his hand on her own, the way his arm had wrapped around her waist and tugged her snugly against him, the way he’d laughed when she’d told him that he smelled nice… the way he had cropped up in her dreams, all warm skin and gentle kisses…

“Yeah.” Gwen made a face.

Piper made a face right back. “No. He’s… attractive enough _physically_ , I guess, sure, but he’s behaving like… _such_ an _asshole._ ”

“He _is_ behaving like such an asshole,” Gwen agreed vehemently. “He’s being the actual worst.” She took another big sip of wine. “So why do you like him?”

“I _don’t_ ,” Piper said, offended, affronted, you name it. She stabbed viciously at a piece of chicken with her fork. “He’s the worst. Like, can you believe he just freaking stopped talking to me when Harry found me? Like, just clammed up. Wouldn’t even look at me – and just stormed off – and then later – it doesn’t even matter,” she sighed.

“Okay,” Gwen said, reaching over and taking her plate away. “What did you say he did at that benefit? Bought you a drink –”

“He didn’t buy me a drink,” Piper corrected, mortified. “I got drunk off a glass of champagne.” She helped clear the table, taking the cutlery to the sink. The wine glasses, however, stayed.

“Okay, he looked after you, told you to call him _Tony_ ,” Gwen stressed his name and clasped her hands together as if she were swooning. “Then, he tells you how great you look, and how sorry he is, and how he doesn’t want you to go.” Gwen raised her eyebrows pointedly.

“You’re kinda twisting it a little – he never actually got around to apologizing –”

“And then,” Gwen stressed, “he looked at you with his big _coffee coloured eyes_ and his _long eyelashes_ –”

“Yeah, and then Harry showed up, and I’m just as confused now as I was when it happened,” Piper said, staring at her best friend. “Was that meant to clear things up?”

Gwen covered her mouth with her hand, clearing her throat.

Piper stared at Gwen, narrowing her eyes. “What’s up?”

“What?” Gwen said, looking like she was trying not to laugh.

“What am I missing here?”

Gwen grinned. “You don’t think he’s jealous?”

Piper rolled her eyes. “Jealous of what? My ability to get drunk off a glass of champagne? I told you, I hadn’t eaten, that’s why I –”

“No. Harry.”

It suddenly clicked when Gwen was saying and Piper spat out her wine. “ _Tony Stark?_ No, I don’t think he’s jealous! Because – because he could have any girl he wanted ready to rip his pants off if he so much as smiled at them –”

“Uh-huh,” Gwen said. “Except you. Because you’re as oblivious as… a person… who is a oblivious.”

“No,” Piper shook her head. “No, he’s…” Her heart sank. “He definitely – _no_. You should’ve heard him, Gwen. He pretty much said I was –” _Useless._ “I…”

She broke off. “I wanna talk about how much I love Scott,” she said firmly.

 

* * *

 

It had been three days and he still hadn’t called her.

He’d picked up his phone hundreds of times, maybe thousands. He’d stared at her contact number, the one she’d typed in herself all those months ago – she’d put one of those sideways smiley faces next to her name. Not even the emoticon. Just a colon and a single parenthesis mark – thumb hovering above the dial button, thinking of some very heartfelt apologies and some maybe more casual, more Tony Stark style ones.

And hundreds of times, maybe thousands, he’d put the phone down.

What if she didn’t pick up? Or what if she picked up and told him to fuck off? Because that would be a very valid response.

 _Useless,_ he thought and winced. A waiter (who must have gone really out of her way to find him) offered him a champagne and for a second he thought about downing the glass in one go. Then he declined.

“Can I get a photo with you?” she blurted.

He took a photo with her.

His phone buzzed and he checked it hopefully. It was from Pepper. _Did you make it to charity event???_

Rolling his eyes, he typed back, _sí, thank u for ur faith._

He had called _Pepper_ and apologized. Why couldn’t he call –?

He had a speech in fifteen minutes. He should be focusing on that. That was why he was pacing around in one of the white, shabby hallways behind the stage, away from the party, from –

His phone buzzed again. It was from Bruce. _There’s something that looks like a speech on the couch._

Oops.

_God, dude, just do it._

He checked his watch, picked up the phone and called her before he could think of not doing it. He waited, his mouth dry, his heart beating too fast as he paced. It was still ringing. It had been ringing for a long time. She wasn’t picking up. She was just going to ignore him, which was understandable, considering he’d been a grade A jackass and –

“Hello?” Her tone was quiet. Tony took that for irritation. Nevertheless, his heart seemed to stutter back to life.

“Uh, hi,” he said, covering his eyes with his free hand as though he couldn’t bare to see where this would go, “it’s me. I mean, it’s Tony, if you didn’t –”

“Yeah,” Piper said hastily, still quiet, “I saw the caller ID. What’s up?”

“Well, I – I wanted to just ask you how – if you were – uh –”

“Mister Stark, I’m actually kinda busy here,” Piper muttered and his heart sank. _Just hang up. Just hang up the phone._

But instead he started rambling.

“That’s fine, I get it, because honestly, I’d be pissed at me too – and maybe the stuff I was – maybe the _way_ I was – you know what? I was an asshole.”

“What?” Piper sounded shocked. “No – I mean, you – you _were_ , sorry, but I’m _actually_ busy, I wasn’t saying that because –”

“Everything I was saying the other night,” Tony ploughed on, “was just – I was angry and I – sometimes I get – concerned? Is that…? That’s a perfectly normal… yeah? No, what I mean is – wow I’m really wishing I had made, like, dot-points or cards so this didn’t sound so –”

“Mister Stark,” Piper said quickly, “I have to go but _really_ it’s not because I’m angry with oh God oh shit.”

“ _What_?” Tony asked, so confused that he stopped pacing.

“What?” Piper said doggedly. “Oh nothing. I just have to ooooohhhh crap crap –”

Tony became aware of the noise in the background; raised voices, and – _God help me, are those bullets –?_

“Piper,” Tony began, furrowing his brow, “where are you?”

“Huh? Me? I’m – just in my room,” Piper said blithely but he was absolutely not buying it. “Watching an action movie. What’s that, Aunt May? Hang the laundry? Yep, sure! Oookay Mister Stark gotta go, everything’s fine –”

“Do _not_ hang up on m–” But the line was dead. Tony stared at his phone, frozen, when a harried looking man in a blue suit approached him.

“Mister Stark? You’re up in five.”

 

* * *

 

So this _may_ have been a bad idea.

Piper ducked behind a tin remnant of the train station’s roof, and a few screams rent the air at the sound of bullets and –

There was another sound, something _powerful – it sounds like one of those old school ray gun effects,_ Piper thought wildly, _if it was up close and personal and actually able to kill you_ – and a blast as more of the station exploded to bits. So far, it looked the deal had _not_ gone well – and that whoever was wielding these Chitauri-based weapons of mass destruction actually knew how to use them.

 _Get the people to safety,_ Piper thought, pulling her mask on before tugging off her jumper and kicking off her jeans. _Thank God that’s off. I have become Sweat Central with the suit on underneath._

She scanned her end of the station for people to save, but everyone appeared to have cleared out after that last blast. They obviously weren’t dumb, and the goons either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

More yelling and Piper, securing her backpack against the tin debris and thanking her stars that she was no longer dealing with yesterday’s hangover, decided it was time to make an entrance, swinging around into the action.

“Hi!” she said vibrantly, assessing the situation – _three with the Chitauri guns left standing, five with guns left standing, no civilians in sight –_ “Doesn’t this look like fun?”

“It’s that fucking Spider-Girl!” the young guy closest to her cried. He happened to be of the normal gun-toting kind ( _never thought I’d say_ that _with some relief_ ), and he seemed to be on the verge of losing his head.

_Huh. Maybe he heard about the guy I tried to throw off a building._

“Almost,” Piper heard herself say – getting ready to move because they would react soon enough, the one with the huge metal gauntlet flexing it menacingly as electricity seemed to course through it – as she swiftly grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm behind his back, the gun dropping from his limp fingers as she kicked him to the ground, securing him with webbing. “But I am _in fact_ your friendly neighbourhood Spider-Wo –”

The hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stood _up_ and Piper _felt_ it coming rather than saw it, fell to the ground and rolled onto her back –

Something huge and mechanized swooped over and she jolted in pain, looking down at her stomach: four long, thin slashes were now torn through the stomach of her suit, leaving shallow cuts that almost immediately filled with blood.

“What the –?” Piper murmured to herself, her head whipping around to find _what the hell was that?!_

A click registered and she looked up, saw a gun – _regular everyday old gun –_ aimed at her face, the barrel seeming to fill up her vision and –

Her foot lashed out, kicking his hand away – he twisted to his left and fired, and by pure luck ( _oh shit)_ it hit the guy with the mechanized glove in the right knee and he _shrieked_ , falling to his knees before shrieking again because _that must have hurt_ , the metal gauntlet flying from his grip, scooting across the concrete platform –

Piper sprung up, hastily delivering the guy who had just tried to fricking _shoot_ her a hit to the face that sent him almost flying, staggering off to the sidelines as the lights went out –

Meanwhile, another guy carrying a Chitauri gun raised his weapon, a wicked looking thing that Piper had a feeling wasn’t going to just knock the other guy – an older dude sporting a shitty comb-over – out cold, but would probably leave his insides splattered all over the station platform.

She flung a web out, catching the ankle of Comb-over, and grasped with both hands, tugging hard. His feet flew out from under him, and he slipped to the floor, hitting his head on the concrete – “Ooooh sorry!” Piper yelled – as a beam of white-hot energy became the only thing visible and the resulting explosion threw her head over heels onto the tracks.

Where the train was coming.

 

* * *

 

“What am I looking for?”

“The red dot, Bruce.” He struggled not to shout. He was already driving too fast.

“Because?”

“Just tell me where she is.”

“You put a tracker on her?”

“ _No_ – it’s a – it’s her phone – is this really what you’re finding _important_ right now –?”

He heard Bruce sigh. “Look, Tony, how do you know she’s in trouble?”

“Never hurts to check.”

 

* * *

 

Bright lights. A horn, warning her, screeching at her to get out of the way.

Piper, adrenaline coursing through her veins at a hundred miles an hour ( _like the train, get out of the way or lie down, make a decision or you will die_ ), rolled to the side where the concrete concaved under the platform, pressing herself flat against the wall.

The train rushed by, still honking, and she could feel the airstream, smell the burning of the rubber, could hear the bullets, could hear the space-age zap of that freaking Chitauri gun, _crap what’s going on up there?_

The train was gone in a matter of seconds but Piper had no time to lose, scrambling up onto the platform –

The first thing she registered were the two bodies on the ground – or rather, one body with blood staining his t-shirt ( _dead? No, he’s breathing, thank God_ ) and a smoking pile of ashes.

The next thing she noticed was that only one other properly conscious person was standing on the platform with her; a tall man, sandy hair tied back into a ponytail. He was looking up at the sky and in the two heartbeats it took for him to notice her, Piper used her web-shooters to fire a cord of webbing at the mechanized gauntlet lying ten feet away from her, letting it sling back towards her waiting hands.

In the two heartbeats it took for him to raise his _ray gun? I guess we’re calling it a ray gun_ – to her, Piper threw the heavy glove straight at his head, where it collided with a satisfying _conk_ and he fell backwards, eyes rolling back into his head, his nose pouring blood.

Piper let out a shaky sigh of relief. “I knew Coach Bowers should’ve put me on the team for basketball,” she blurted out, more because she needed to cope, needed to accept that someone was dead, _I need to tie these guys up before –_

And then she _felt it_ again, and she rolled away, fast –

A body fell from the sky and slapped down on the platform right next to her, and she heard the sickening crunch of bones.

He coughed and gasped, flecks of blood painting his chin – _he’s alive and he’s breathing_ – and Piper crawled towards him, the panic in his eyes mirroring the fear she felt growing inside her.

“Don’t worry,” she said as calmly as she could, digging in his jacket pocket, searching for a phone – _found it! Yes!_ “You’re gonna be okay – I’m calling 911 –”

He grasped for her hand as she dialed. “Hey – you’re going to be fine, you gonna – Hello? Help me, I need an ambulance – oh shit, he’s hurt, he’s broken a lot of bones – yes, we’re –”

She barely had time to rattle off the address before she was hit again.

This time it was one of the wings – because that’s what they were, giant mechanical wings – that clipped her hard on the shoulder as it banked sharply, and she smacked forwards onto the hard platform ground, the phone clattering away, her teeth mashing against her lips –

She glared up at the figure standing above her as he retracted his faceplate – _it looks like something Tony would make_ – and she could barely admire the work that was his ( _wing suit? Flight suit? Exo-suit?)_ suit, all rotors and intricate detail and –

She stared at his face. He just looked like a normal, everyday guy.

“So you’re the one who’s been hunting down my buyers,” he stated, nodding his head as if just processing the information. He shrugged, pouting his lips in a mockery of melancholy. “Sorry bedbug, but we can’t have that.”

Piper stared, still too aware of the wheezing attempts to breathe made by the man behind her.

“So you’re the one selling all this –”

Her muscles tensed as he drew a _friggin Chitauri gun, God, I actually miss normal guns_ –

She jumped, lunging for a section of metal roofing that hadn’t been torn down as the white hot energy missed her, but _he_ moved too, rising to her level and pivoting sharply, the solid edge of his right wing colliding powerfully with her ribs, throwing her back towards the ground.

Piper groaned through clenched teeth, sharp pains dancing through her ribcage every time she breathed in. “That’s fine, I don’t need ribs,” she grumbled, trying to ignore just how very _bad_ this was, how she could be dead in a second if she didn’t focus –

The bird-man landed right next to her, and she should see the gouges the makeshift talon on his feet left in the concrete, black faceplate back in place as he aimed the weapon at her a second time –

She aimed the next web-shot at the eyes of the faceplate, and he made a sound of surprise, and maybe – maybe if she was quick enough –

His grip on the gun had loosened and she tugged it from his grip, ribcage in agony, fully aware that if he accidentally set it off (or maybe not so accidentally) she was toast –

He wrenched the web concealing his vision as she flung the gun onto the train tracks and his arm came up, slapping her with such brute force that she flew, saw stars as she cracked against the rubble, the pain in her ribs searing and bright, _get up, Piper, get up or you’re dead_ but her limbs wouldn’t work, everything was fuzzy –

Hand around her throat, lifting her into the air. She coughed, spluttered, dully aware that he shouldn’t have this much strength – _it’s_ _the suit –_

“No hard feelings, kid,” the normal, everyday looking guy behind the faceplate droned. “You’re just bad for business.”

In the midst of the blurriness, a lone thought popped into her brain: _no suit equals no power._

The edges of her vision were going dark but Piper’s senses kicked into overdrive as she sought the mechanized gauntlet, saw it lying feet away and she aimed, hoping she wouldn’t miss, hoping the webbing would catch what she needed –

The glove flew back to her hand and Piper let it slip on, feeling the handle embedded within it and instinct kicked in: she squeezed.

Electricity crunched out with astonishing intensity, violet-white against the blackening world, and the man with the metal wings swore, letting her go and Piper could see – because the colours and the clearness were returning – the crackle of the electricity ripple through the wings, malfunctioning as the man encased within them swore again and tried to work them –

Piper directed both of her hands at the remnant of the roofing, ribs aching, cuts stinging, teeth gritted while blood trickled from her split lip, darkening her mask with deeper shades of red. She tugged herself into the air, using the momentum to push herself feet first towards the man in the exo-suit.

“No hard feelings!” she yelled as her feet made contact with the helmet he wore, so hard it _cracked_ and crap her legs were going to hurt after this one –

He stumbled back, falling to the ground, lying motionless as the wing suit continued to jitter and shudder before there was a hiss and it loosened, and Piper, crouched on the ground and cradling her ribcage with one arm, made to crawl towards him, pull him out of there and tie him up –

Another _click_ dripping with lethality, and she froze, cursing inside her head. Why hadn’t she sensed it?

 _Too tired, too hurt, too_ ugh _–_

“Whatever,” she muttered.

“Don’t matter much to me either,” the guy with the sandy hair and the broken nose said, and _sure,_ she _had_ said she wanted normal guns but right now she would have preferred absolutely no guns at all _thank you very much –_

“But Toomes is right. You’re bad for business.”

“Okay, I’m giving you one chance. Drop the gun and back away, slowly, or you’ll be sorry,” Piper said firmly, thinking fast, drawing up nothing, _shit, shit, shit –_

The guy laughed, dry blood flaking away from his cupid’s bow.

“No, really, I’m warning you,” Piper said.

“Sure,” was all he said before suddenly he was flying across the station platform, disappearing behind a pile of rubble.

Piper whipped around, wondering where the blue bolt of energy had come from, whether somebody else had picked up one of those stupid guns –

Her heart sank (but was beating hard and fast. Piper told herself it was because of the fight). The Mark Forty-Seven was standing not ten feet behind her, one arm raised, clearly the reason Ponytail had suddenly taken flight.

 _Dammit,_ she thought, disgruntled. _Couldn’t you have shown up when I was kicking ass?_

 

* * *

 

Okay, she wasn’t dead. That was a pro, definitely a pro. Why was he so _angry_ then?

Oh, that’s right, because she _would have been dead_ if he hadn’t turned up.

“You mind telling me just what it is you think you’re doing, Parker?” Tony said through clenched teeth, stomping over to her so he could help her to her feet – but she was already on her feet, one hand pressed against her ribs and oh awesome, she was bleeding, that was just _great –_

She stumbled towards him and he resisted the urge to simply pick her up and carry her, but Piper was limping past him. He wondered if she could hear the sirens.

“What are you –?”

“He’s _hurt_ ,” she said simply, and he could hear the frustration in her voice, hear the regret because she’d let it happen –

She could hardly stand, and all she cared about was the unconscious kid on the ground. His heart swelled, his stomach rolling. _Okay, anger officially gone._ The only problem was that the impulse to kiss her was coming in hot and heavy, and boy did it hate being ignored.

But he was better than that so too damn bad: he would ignore it.  

“So are you,” he said gently. “Piper –”

“I thought I was _Parker_ ,” she said dully.

_Gee, thanks Tony, for saving my life._

Tony stared at her. “Hey, remember how this used to be a train station? Yeah. You’re the one in trouble here,” he said, and although it was not his brightest insult, it got the point across easily enough.

“I usually am,” Piper grumbled, staggering over to a dusty looking backpack and tugging it around her shoulders.

“Whoa, hey, just where are you going?” Tony said hastily because no way in hell was she going to be able to walk this one off. She could hardly stand! “Piper, we’re not done here –”

“Lucky me,” Piper said, not even bothering to lower her voice.

Tony paused, surprised. _Probably deserved that,_ he thought, but now he was angry again, angry that she didn’t understand how close that had been, still thanking God over and over again that he’d arrived in time –

“What can I say to make this clearer to you?” he snapped. “How does ‘stop putting yourself in dangerous situations’ sound?”

“But I got the guy!”

“Not the point – you couldn’t have called?”

“I tried to call _Happy,_ but he didn’t pick up,” Piper retorted, crossing her arms.

He felt the anger, red hot and stupid, crack through him like a whip. “Well congratulations, kid. You’ve done a great job by yourself.”

He saw her shoulders stiffen before she ripped off her mask, and _jeez_ she looked beat. Dried blood crackled across her lips, and she looked like she was getting a black eye.  

“I messed up!” she yelled, and he baulked, flinching at the hurt in her voice. “Are you happy? Because you were right, Tony, congratulations! So can we skip the part where you tell me that I’m not good enough to join your stupid superhero circle-jerk?”

Piper couldn’t see it, but Tony’s jaw was on the fucking floor. She stood there, breathing heavily, looking so angry and confused, and his heart constricted.

This was all his fault.

“You think,” Tony began slowly, “that I don’t think you’re good enough?”

“That’s _exactly_ what you think,” Piper bawled, her voice breaking, and his stomach squirmed ashamedly. “So, fine, you win! I don’t WANT to be part of the Avengers anymore! Not if it means I have to be around YOU for – for one more _second!_ ”

He flinched. Now it wasn’t just his stomach. Guilt tore through his body quicker than fire on a trail of gasoline, rendering him completely silent.

“Jesus, you’ve been doing all this because of me,” he murmured weakly but she wasn’t listening; she was too busy picking her mask up and covering her face as the sirens grew ever nearer. He heard her sniff, and he winced, unsure of whether it was because of the tears or her injuries. Either way, it was on him.

_I just wanted to keep you safe._

“So thank you, Mister Stark,” Piper was saying, but it sounded strange, disconnected. “Thank you for the trophy.”

He was lost for words. Not only because he could hardly bring himself to defend his actions, but he had no idea what she was talking about. He almost let her fly off into the sunset.

Until Piper fainted and he lunged forwards, catching her before she smacked into the ground for what was probably the umpteenth time that day.

 


	6. Chapter 6

When Piper woke up, she knew she was in trouble.

Not only, she noted as she slowly rose to a sitting position and blearily scoped her bedroom, because it seemed like every single part of her body _hurt_ (although, certainly not as badly as it had – earlier today? Yesterday? Longer? _Yikes_ ) _._

Not only, she thought as she scrambled across her bed – her body protesting, reaching out to her alarm clock, _6:12 (A.M.?)_ – because she could now clearly see her torn and bloody Spidey suit crumpled on the floor. That probably wouldn’t have slipped by her Aunt May. May would have been the one to put her in a fresh t-shirt and sweatpants –

Not only, she reminisced as stared in her mirror and saw the cuts, grazes, bruises (one around her left eye, a faded yellowish brown), because of the _numerous_ things that had gone wrong in the fight with Toomes, the station, the kid lying on the platform, struggling to breathe –

Her face crumpled, and she let herself drop to the floor, covering her mouth with her hands, _please let him be okay, please let him be okay –_

There was a knock on her door, and she froze. Only Aunt May could let you know you were in the ess-aitch-eye-tee by such a simple little knock.

“Piper?” She sounded calm. Chipper, even. _Calm before the storm._ “You awake?”

Piper wiped at her face, forced her voice to be even. “Yeah – I’m awake.”

“Could you come out here, when you’re ready?” Even though it was slightly muffled by the bedroom door, Piper could clearly hear how clipped her aunt’s tone was. “We need to talk.”

Piper sighed. Everything hurt. Ribs, head, heart.

 _Chest_ , a voice in her head challenged, but it was a weak and feeble attempt. It was her heart. It ached like the rest of her.

She didn’t want to think about it.

Because that was another reason she was _definitely_ in trouble.

Because the last thing she could remember thinking was: _thank God you’re such an asshole, or else I definitely would’ve tried to kiss you sooner._ Which didn’t make a lot of sense that she’d thought _that_ of all things in that moment. Maybe she’d been really lightheaded – _of course_ she’d been lightheaded!

Right?

She wondered if Aunt May would let her have a shower before the showdown. Or at the very least, brush her teeth.

 

* * *

 

As Piper ventured out from her bedroom, she saw that Aunt May was standing behind the kitchen counter, hands resting on the bench, her shoulders set. She was staring into a cup of tea.

Piper cleared her throat. “I can –”

“When I came home yesterday, I thought you were dead.” Piper went quiet as her aunt cupped her hands around the teacup, steam curling up towards her face. “You had blood all over your face. All over your stomach. You…” May faltered.

“They’re shallow,” Piper offered solemnly. She’d checked her stomach; four long thin cuts, already on their way to healing. _Bless you, weird mutant spider powers._

“Are you _kidding_ me?” Aunt May hissed, whipping her head up.

“I can explain,” Piper began, holding her hands up in the “Whoa, Nelly” gesture, and her ribs helpfully reminded her that they were not in the best of ways –

“Oh, you can explain?” Aunt May whispered derisively, nodding vigorously. “You _can_?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Piper whispered back, not entirely sure why they were being so quiet – sure, it was early, but they didn’t have to _whisper_.

Aunt May crossed her arms, eyes wide and ready. “All right. The floor is yours. Let’s hear it.”

Piper hesitated. This was insane. She couldn’t help but laugh, although none of this felt very funny. “I bet you’re wishing I had a convict for a boyfriend right now, huh?”

May slammed a hand down on the counter. “ _Damn_ it, Piper!”

Piper jumped guiltily before the hairs on the back of her neck stood up – _now?! –_ and she sailed across the room, ready to shield Aunt May from whatever danger was in the living room –

The movement was quick, sharp: somebody bolting upright on the couch, their head and shoulders just visible over the couch’s back. Piper blinked, her stomach lurching in jubilation.

Tony Stark slung an arm over the back of her couch, his hair a mess, his pale blue button-up creased and crinkled. He had been lying on her couch. Correction: he had been sleeping on her couch. He had been _sleeping_. On her _couch. Tony Stark._

And good God, he looked adorable when he was all rumpled and half-asleep.

 _No, he doesn’t,_ that feeble little voice in her head protested.

Piper turned to Aunt May, her heart hammering. He had spent the night – _sleeping on the couch –_ because… _why?_

“By all means,” her aunt huffed, gesturing towards the couch. “Explain that too.”

 

* * *

 

He’d offered very politely to leave the room, but Piper had rapidly schooled Aunt May into her messy bedroom, while her aunt told her boss that he was welcome to anything in the kitchen or the fridge –

“How long has he been here?” Piper demanded (quietly) the second her door was closed, whirling towards her aunt in desperation. Then she remembered she hadn’t brushed her teeth and delved into her backpack in search of gum.

May was sitting on Piper’s bed, her arms and her legs tightly crossed. She arched an eyebrow. “How long has Tony Stark been here? It that what you’re asking?”

Piper waved her hands around in silent frustration, kneeling over her backpack. She hoped this would emphasize… whatever it was she was feeling. (Why had he stayed? That was meant to be good, right? But then, why had he barely looked at her? Probably because she had yelled at him and he was angry at her because she’d ruined a train station. But then why had he _stayed?_ )

She chucked two sticks of gum in her mouth and chewed hurriedly. Then she added a third. Mint exploded in her mouth.

Her aunt sighed. “Yesterday.” Her lower lip began to quiver. “He was carrying… you looked so – so _small,_ and all I could think –” Her aunt’s face crumpled and she buried her face in her hands.

Piper stopped chewing. Guilt had replaced impatient elation, slowly making her feel heavier, more weighed down. Reluctantly, she spat her gum into her bin.

She carefully snuggled up to May, wrapping an arm around her. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you. But I didn’t want you to worry.” _You’d already lost Uncle Ben,_ she couldn’t bring herself to say. “I… I’m sorry, but I… can’t just stop doing what I do. It’s like I’ve been given the chance to make a difference. I can’t throw it away.”

After a few quiet moments, her aunt sniffed, wiped her eyes. “Okay. Okay.” She nodded, clearing her throat. “You’re – damn it, Piper, why does it have to be _you?_ ”

Piper shrugged. “It just is.”

“Yeah. But I don’t like it. I kind of wish you were dating the convicted felon.”

Piper let out a huff of laughter. Her ribs groaned. Her bed squeaked. She wondered what Tony was doing out in the living room. Maybe he’d left. Maybe he’d drifted off to sleep again. _On the couch,_ she thought again, and it made chest feel funny.

Her head turned towards her bedroom door and she squinted, as if somehow this would bring on a bout of x-ray vision.

“Yeah,” Aunt May said interestedly. “Is there something I should know about there?”

Piper kept her face blank. “Finding out I’m Spider-Woman isn’t enough for you?”

Aunt May still looked shrewd. “ _Is_ there?”

“ _No_ ,” Piper said emphatically. Probably a little too emphatically. To cover it up, she cleared her throat. “It’s not like that. He thinks…”

God, what _did_ he think? What did _she_ think?

_I think I’m in trouble._

Aunt May just shook her head, her expression one of mingled pity and amusement.

“Honey, I love you to death, but for a kid so smart, you are so clueless.”

 

* * *

 

When he’d seen her standing in the kitchen (still very battered and bruised but, y’know, _alive_ ), relief had swum through his veins so fast he’d felt dizzy.

Now they were in her bedroom and he was playing with his phone, throwing it from hand to hand, trying not to think about –

( _Not if it means I have to be around_ you _for one more second –)_

He wondered if he should leave now. He’d stayed to make sure she was okay. She definitely didn’t want him here.

Tony checked his phone, scrolling through the texts of admonishment from Pepper ( _did you actually RUN OUT before your speech??? are you kidding me??)_ , trying to ignore the inner turmoil he was currently experiencing. He was vaguely reminded of a song by the Clash when Piper’s bedroom door swung open and her unnaturally attractive aunt walked out, _smiling_ of all things. He’d been waiting for her to crucify him, or at the very least yell at him for failing to keep her niece safe –

“Hi! Do you wanna stay for breakfast? We have bagels.”

Tony blinked before flashing a smile back at her, the kind he knew lots of women thought were charming and easygoing. “Thank you, but I think I’ll get out of your hair, you probably –”

“It’s really the least I can do,” Aunt May said warmly. From behind her, Piper peered out into the living room, her face set and resigned. “Aunt May,” she said quietly, “if he wants to leave…”

“I can totally leave,” Tony said with a lightness he didn’t feel, jumping to his feet and grabbing his suit jacket off the end of the couch. The muscles in his back protested; Piper’s couch was clearly an unforgiving bastard.

“Sit down. You’re staying for bagels,” Aunt May said determinedly, grabbing her purse from the kitchen counter.

Tony glanced at Piper, who was leaning against her doorframe. She raised one shoulder in a shrug, rolling her eyes (but at her _aunt’s_ behaviour, Tony realized, not at his).

“Yes ma’am,” he said dutifully, dropping back onto the couch, his spirits a fraction higher than they had been a moment before. They rose a little higher when he saw Piper seemed to be smiling ever so slightly.

 _Doesn’t mean anything,_ he told himself. _It does_ not _mean anything –_

“Okay, well, I forgot we don’t have bagels,” May Parker said cheerfully, grabbing an eco-friendly shopping bag. “I’d better go get some. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

The front door shut behind her. He swung his head to look at Piper, and she shrugged again, this time a little defensively. “I know. Subtlety is not her _forte._ ”

“Really? I didn’t notice,” he said, trying to sound sincere.

That little smile was back, tugging at the corners of her lips. He felt one side of his mouth jerk upwards in response.

“Did you sleep okay?” Piper asked softly. “I’m sorry. I know that couch is not the world’s greatest –”

“I slept great,” Tony lied. He hadn’t slept a wink. That hadn’t entirely been the couch’s fault, to be fair.

Maybe, just maybe, they could engage in sparse polite conversation for the next fifteen minutes and then never have to talk about anything serious ever again. Maybe he didn’t have to acknowledge just how his insides had tied themselves into a knot, a knot that seemed to be two parts guilt and one part longing bordering on pining.

Because he had to tell her. Well, maybe not that he was so hopelessly attracted to her that he’d lain awake the whole night just in case she’d woken up and needed something… Maybe just the other parts.

Tony sighed, placing his head in his hands. “Piper –”

“Really,” she said fixedly. “Thank you for staying. I appreciate it.”

He closed his eyes. “That is the last thing you should be doing.”

“I shouldn’t be grateful?” She sounded perplexed.

“Not to me,” he said shortly. She stayed silent, so he took that as a cue to better explain. “Piper, would you have been out there yesterday if it hadn’t been for me?”

“I’m not really sure.”

“But I’m right, aren’t I? Because I told you that you couldn’t do it? Because I don’t think you’re good enough, right?”

Piper was silent.

Tony rubbed his temples, grimacing. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”

“Mister Stark,” she said, and he nearly jumped at how close her voice was; she was on the couch beside him. “You don’t have to make me feel better. Trust me, yesterday was a pretty clear example of why I’m not really cut out to do this –”

“Really?” He turned his head, opened his eyes. She looked pale and tired. “I mean, there were no civilian casualties. The damage was brought on because of an argument between Toomes and a guy trying to make more money than he was apparently worth, and frankly, if you’d tried to intervene with that, you probably wouldn’t be here right now –”

“No civilian casualties?” Piper interrupted, her eyes wide and bright. “The guy who fell, he’s –?”

“Gonna be fine.” He’d scoured the news sites routinely through the night.

She sighed, her shoulders sagging in relief. “Thank God.” She glanced at him with a curious expression, crossing her arms. “So… why?”

“Why what?”

“Why’d you shut me out and tell me to,” her nose wrinkled, “ _cool it?_ ”

Tony hesitated. He wished his phone would ring, wished her phone would ring, wished Aunt May would burst into the room with bagels. No such distraction appeared.

“I’m not mad,” Piper said gently, and to her credit she almost sounded like she was telling the truth. “Well… okay, I’m a little mad. You can be kind of frustrating.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“But I know that if you hadn’t shown up when you did yesterday, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.”

The words were pulled from his throat as he remembered it. “If something happened to you, I don’t know what I’d do.” _Jesus, Tony, good job sounding like a casual friend._ But he was surprised to find his eyes starting to sting. “I’m sorry for making you feel like – believe me, you’re _more_ than good enough. Just sometimes… it doesn’t matter. All it takes is one little mistake and…”

Here he was, sitting on her couch, trying not to cry. Yep. This was just great. Women just went crazy for this kind of Tony.

“Mister Stark?” Her hand, small and warm, tentatively touched his forearm. He swallowed. “You okay? Do you want… I don’t know, some tea?”

He let out a shaky little laugh – a laugh that only lasted a moment, barely a second. “No thanks, Doctor Parker, although I appreciate the offer.” Then, because he thought he couldn’t possibly be more of an idiot than he’d already been, he placed his hand over hers… before the boldness fled, and he quickly moved it away. As if this confirmed something, she swiftly drew her hand up to her face, under the pretense of tucking her hair behind her ear.

He continued, smoothly changing gears. “So, breakthrough. I’m pretty sure in the midst of you yelling at me about what an asshole I am, you called me Tony.”

Piper rolled her eyes in spite of her rapidly coloring cheeks. “I’m glad that’s what you took out of it.”

“Hey, silver lining, right? You know, you can keep it up if you want to.”

A flicker of a smile played about her face. “The yelling?”

“Maybe not the yelling. Calling me Tony.”

“Who, me?”

“Sure. You could even make a habit of it.”

She started to really smile when, all of a sudden, it dimmed, apprehension dwelling in the line of her mouth, the furrows in her brow. She bit her lip hesitantly – _Jesus,_ Piper biting her lip like that should have been made illegal – and she said, “Did you mean all that stuff you said that night?”

_The night you told me I was useless?_

“None of it,” Tony said immediately; not only because it was the truth but because he couldn’t have her looking at him like this: her shoulders tense, a nervous energy playing in the way she tapped her fingers. “I wasn’t thinking. It… it wasn’t actually how I felt – how I feel. About. Things.” He cringed, wishing he could kick himself in the face. _Nailed it._

“Oh,” Piper said. Only she sounded disappointed, not to mention _looked_ disappointed. He blinked.

“‘ _Oh_ ’?” he repeated, his brows drawing together in bemusement. “What’s wrong?”

“No, I just… it’s fine. I mean, I thought you were…” She shrugged. “It’s all good, I must’ve read you – the situation – wrong.”

Tony squinted. “ _Surprisingly_ , that did not clear things up for me –”

“When you were looking after me,” Piper said, staring firmly at the ceiling. “At the gala for Oscorp.”

Something clicked into place in his brain, and a bright feeling seemed to crack open in the region of his stomach. He held his breath, not even letting the possibility enter his mind, no matter how tantalizing it was.

He forced his mind to land on Lang, and how Piper quietly adored him with the power of a thousand suns. The feeling in his stomach faltered and stalled. “Ah.”

“Harry’s not my boyfriend,” Piper blurted, now giving the ceiling a vaguely pained expression. “I don’t want him to be. Or… or Scott. I, um. I couldn’t care less about. Him. Anybody else. I mean, apart from…” Her eyes flickered towards him, almost apologetically, and she cleared her throat. “Um. And I’m probably super wrong about this… and you can just totally pretend that I said nothing – I thought I’d…”

She was getting flustered, and he was worried that if he kissed her when she was flustered, she’d get even more flustered and pull away. But he couldn’t help that the sensation in his stomach had returned in full swing, as vivid and as elating as fireworks. The feeling swelled, and he struggled to keep a straight face, suddenly sure that he would burst out laughing. _She’ll think you’re crazy, under no circumstances should you do that –_

Piper glanced at him, eyebrows raised. “ _Anytime_ you care to stop me, Tony, or tell me that I’m wrong, please do – cause I can just steamroll my way through this all day if you don’t say something.”

“C’mere,” he said.

She did.

“Say my name again?” he asked.

She did.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Piper found that she had a heck of a lot of voicemails to get through.

A lot of them, she was surprised to find, were from other members of the Avengers. She had one from each of them (or almost each of them: Clint had said “oh and Natasha says congratulations on not dying” and she didn’t really know Wanda or Vision well enough). She even had one from Scott (“Piper! Bruce said something like you’re under house arrest or that you fought a whole heap of bird robots. Anyway, I hope you’re okay, and I’ve sent you, like, a whole heap of those cheesy pretzels. Or I would, if I had your address. Hey, give me your address, and boom, I promise, giant box of cheesy pretzels headed your way –”) but, she was happy to note, it didn’t make her feel anything that was remotely beyond platonic friendship.

Bruce had sent her some emails. Most of them were just little messages asking how she was doing, but some of them had images attached. Piper now had a photo on her desktop titled “best picture ever” – it was an actual _selfie_ of Bruce, Sam, Scott and Steve sitting in the kitchen at Stark Tower, holding a big cardboard sign that read, _even heroes get grounded, #free piper._ Not only was it hilarious, it also made her heart swell with joy. There were no words to convey just how gratified she was, and she would be mortified for them to learn just how much their messages meant to her.

The most pressing of these voicemails came from Gwen, who Piper had finally Skyped.

“ _Grounded?_ ” Gwen cried, looking horrified. “But – but you’re twenty!”

“I know,” Piper said grumpily, swaying her desk chair from side to side. “But I think Aunt May might kill me if I don’t do as she says. It’s not for long, anyway. I thought I’d be stuck here for _years_.”

“Far out,” Gwen said with feeling. “Can I still come over?”

“Probably. I don’t know.” Piper hesitated. “She’s kinda holding my suit hostage. She takes it to work with her.”

Gwen face was a mixture of sympathy and amusement. “That sucks, dude.” Then she frowned, squinting. “What happened to your face?”

“The station, like I told you –”

“No,” Gwen gestured to her own mouth. “It’s kinda red – what happened, did you –?” She paused, her eyes widening in comprehension and she grinned. “Oh my God.”

“It’s not funny,” Piper said uncertainly.

“Do you have _pash rash?_ ”

Piper dropped her head on her desk theatrically. “Jesus, _Gwen –_ ”

“Who gave you –?” Gwen trailed off before yelling, “ _Oh my God!_ I _knew_ it!”

“Please stop,” Piper groaned, although she was laughing too much to be taken seriously. It was hard not to see the funny side.

“But it’s Tony, right?” Gwen was still too exuberant to be quiet. She was laughing too, bouncing around on her queen bed. 

Piper shrugged, her face feeling hot. She might have felt a stronger sense of embarrassment had she not been so pleased.

“Oh my God,” Gwen said again, finally sitting still, processing. Piper had gone through the exact same sequence of emotions at least fifteen times today.

“So?” Gwen demanded, practically shaking her laptop. “You guys finally sorted it out?”

“Well… we probably still have to talk about some things.” Piper shrugged again, not quite wanting to share every detail with Gwen just yet. Like how they hadn’t actually spent that much time talking. Or how his eyes flickered shut when she let her fingers trail through his hair. Or how, when he had first kissed her, it had been so gentle that for a second she hadn’t even realised he’d done it.

Or how she had practically leapt off the couch in pure shock as Aunt May had yanked open the door, cradling a bag full of delicious smelling breakfast foods. (Tony’s poker face had been impenetrable as he went to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee; Piper’s, not so much.)

“Piper?”

Aunt May hadn’t said anything, but then she’d claimed to have forgotten something else, and had to go back to the shops to get _that,_ and the second the door had closed behind her, Piper had practically flown out of her chair and vaulted onto the kitchen counter, tugging him towards her, and he’d tasted like coffee, which she’d found very fitting…

Her toes curled against her rug. Nobody had ever told her that remembering could be almost as good as the real thing.

“Piper!” Gwen looked as though she’d watched the last episode of her favourite show, only to find that the series ended on a cliffhanger. “What happened? Are you guys dating? Is he a good kisser?”

But a phone started to ring. Piper nearly sighed in relief when she saw it was Gwen’s.

“Damn it, Connors.” Gwen sighed. “Look, I’ll call you tomorrow, and we are _talking_ about how you made out with –”

“Okay, love you, bye!” Piper cried cheerfully, slamming her laptop shut.

Then she picked up her own phone, calling her message bank and listening to the voicemail she’d saved from last night, her heartbeat skyrocketing.

“Hey, hey. I’m just calling – well, I mean, obviously – but I wanted to check in with you. But you’re probably resting, which is good – in fact, if you’re not resting, just start doing that, right now. Anyway, everyone here misses you, except for me, and Bruce is taking lots of photos for you because he thinks you need to see things like Steve struggling to use a microwave. I said I’d be in them if we did like a Playgirl kind of photo shoot, maybe turn it into a calendar, and he was surprisingly not keen on doing that. I’m not gonna lie, I’m a little hurt.

“So, I’m flying over to L.A. tomorrow – work conference, Pepper wants me to be there. So, let me know if you want any thing specifically Californian and I’ll find a way to sneak it back. Coyotes, Disneyland, anybody from the cast of _the O.C._ I’ll find a way.

“Hey, remember earlier how I said everyone misses you except for me? Just clarifying, that was a joke. Thor always tells me he can never tell when I’m joking. So yeah. Call me, beep me, if you wanna reach me. Jesus, I just said that. Okay. I’m hanging up. Is this thing gonna cut me off, or am I just gonna keep rambling on and –”

There was a beep.

Piper rolled her chair across her room, her toes trailing on the carpet, trying to contain her grin, her stomach an exuberant mess of butterflies.

All in all, she thought, being grounded could be worse.


End file.
